


Unsinkable

by writeitininkorinblood



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Titanic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 64,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Davey is being taken to America in what amounts to little more than a gilded cage on the grandest ship in the world. Jack came into a stroke of luck when he won a ticket last minute. After just once glance up to the First Class promenade deck, Jack can't look away from the gorgeous boy with the sad eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timetogoslumming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetogoslumming/gifts), [davey_gaycobs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/davey_gaycobs/gifts), [jesss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesss/gifts).



> Finally posting the completed version of this on ao3 after serialising it on tumblr for months! Now with fewer typos, more consistent speech, and a couple of extra paragraphs here and there!

Jack never usually much liked his odds in poker. He was too expressive – every tell was obvious on his face even to people who barely knew him, and he reckoned the cards were never in his favour either. There was no particular reason why he’d gotten involved in the game at the bar but suddenly he was betting everything he had against a ticket on the _Titanic_. Go big or go home. It all seemed worth risking for the change to finally return to America. He wanted to go out West and beyond and the only way to start that journey was by boat. He’d never expected to win. When they’d laid their hands down and the men he was playing started arguing with each other about betting too frivolously with too much, everything changed. Snatching up the ticket and scooping his monetary winnings into his pocket before anyone tried to take anything back, he grabbed his things and raced out of the bar. He had a ship to catch.

 ****

The _Titanic_ was nothing like Jack had ever seen before. Even the Third Class cabins were the best accommodation he’d slept in since he could remember – his bunk mates were almost certainly going to end up hating him from the grin permanently on his face. And the _food._ It wasn’t the best quality but it was free and frequent and he couldn’t argue with that. For once he didn’t have to worry about where his next meal was coming from. Everything until he got to New York was sorted and when he next stepped foot on land he was sneaking onto a train and heading to Santa Fe.

Walking round the deck, dodging the children playing football and the First Class dogs being walked by crew members, Jack took in the sea air and tried to imagine life getting better than this. He knew he was the bottom of the ladder of those on the ship, barely one rung above the rats, but that didn’t matter when all he could see was the horizon. It felt like he was going places.

A young couple were leaning over the side, her in his arms as they talked about their future. As soon as Jack’s eyes found them his fingers itched for a pencil. There wasn’t much to do but draw so he’d taken to carrying his paper – the one thing he’d spend money on - everywhere with him to capture as much of the life on the ship as he could. Sitting down on a bench, he fished a small stick of graphite out of his pocket and started to sketch out the shapes of the couple. He flicked his eyes between the page and real life, trying to work out the proportions. And then he saw the boy.

There were very clear divisions of where he was and wasn’t allowed to go on the ship and he knew that the upper decks weren’t meant for him. But he couldn’t help but look at the boy who had appeared at the edge of those railings, looking sadly back in the direction they’d come. That was new. Everyone Jack had met on board seemed happy to be travelling, all wanting to get to America. This boy didn’t look like he wanted to be leaving England at all. Jack wanted to make him smile; no one should ever look that sad. Elbowing to the guy beside him, he gestured up to the deck with the boy.

"What's up there?" he asked.

He wanted to know if it was anywhere he could ever go. He had to know that boy, had to learn his name at least.

His impromptu friend turned to look and when he realised what Jack was pointing to.

"Don't even think about it,” he laughed, his voice rich and deep with an Irish accent. “That's the First Class deck. You're not even allowed to stare at the pretty girls up there."

It was only half a joke. Crew members had already had stern words with people who’d been caught staring up at the First Class women, and they were less than 24 hours into the journey.

Jack just nodded, not taking his eyes of the boy.

"No starin’ at pretty girls. Got it,” he promised, meaning every word. Girls were nice once or twice, but he was far more interested in staring at this boy then he was at any of the made-up, prissy-looking women. There was something in this boy’s eyes, even from this distance, that told Jack he didn’t belong up there.

Just as he was about to turn to the man who’d answered him and introduce himself, First Class boy looked down. The movement was too quick for Jack to turn away and suddenly they were making eye contact. Common sense told him to look away, but he kept looking until the boy firmly averted his gaze somewhere else. It lasted a few seconds before his eyes flickered back down to Jack’s and, being greeted with a cocky grin, he clearly gritted his teeth and turned his body away, facing the other direction.

Yes, Jack decided, he wanted to meet that boy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicide mention

It took Jack only a couple of days to fall in love with the night sky at sea. The stars were so clear, so beautiful and bright, that he could happily spend hours staring up at them when almost everyone else on the ship was inside in the warm. He didn’t have a coat but he was used to the cold so his jacket was enough.

And that’s when the person ran past him. Whoever it was clearly wasn’t a runner – they were gangly and awkward and had no finesse, but it was more than that. They were desperate, clearly crying, and they were heading for the stern of the ship. There was something about that that made Jack uneasy and he climbed unsteadily to his feet and followed the runner.

When Jack saw the guy – a boy really, maybe 17 or 18 – hanging over the back off the ship, on what was entirely the wrong side of the railings, his heart leapt into his mouth and he fought the urge to run forward and grab him to pull him back safely. From the look of his clothes he was a First Class passenger who probably wouldn’t take kindly to being manhandled. That’s when he realised it was _the boy_ , the one from the First Class deck. He wanted to talk to him, but this wasn’t the time. Instead Jack cleared his throat.

The boy jumped and it became incredibly clear that Jack shouldn’t have made a noise. Startling someone on a precipice was going on the ‘poor ideas’ list. As much as he slipped, the rich boy managed to grab on to the railings and turn around, his eyes wide and frightened.

"N-no. Stand back,” he ordered, gulping back tears.

Jack held up his hands in surrender and took a step back. He was really hoping this was a big misunderstanding – this was definitely the first and probably only First Class passenger Jack had seen on the Third Class deck – but there weren’t many ways to explain hanging off the back of a boat that didn’t equate to a suicide attempt.

"I ain’t movin’. Whatcha doing there, sir?" Jack asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

Wrinkling his nose, Rich Boy shook his head. "Don't call me sir.”

"I'm ‘fraid if I don't they might shoot me,” Jack laughed roughly, despite the whole situation. “Would ya like some help gettin’ down?" he offered carefully, resisting the impulse to take a step closer.

It looked like Rich Boy was considering it, it really did. He was cute, Jack noted absently, but when he didn’t make any move to climb back over that cute was forgotten and replaced by ‘dangerously close to jumping to his death’, because that definitely took precedence right now. Cute could be considered later, although this boy was First Class so he was almost definitely off limits.

"No. I'm not getting down.” Rich Boy sounded adamant. But Jack could hear the fear in his voice, the boy didn’t really want to do this.

"Okay then,” Jack shrugged. Then he undid the buttons on his jacket and shrugged it off, crouching down to unlace his shoes and toe them off.

Rich Boy turned around, confused by the sudden silence. When his saw Jack stripping off his eyes went wide and he stammered over a question

"W-w-what are you doing?!" he asked, part horrified and half… intrigued? Jack definitely wanted to return to that tone later.

Rolling his eyes and resisting a smirk (now was _not_ the time), Jack used Rich Boy’s confusion to take a few steps closer. If this boy was actually going to try to jump then he wanted half a chance at grabbing him back.

"I'm involved now. I can't just walk away,” Jack explained. He had a plan. Hopefully.

"You can't jump in after me. You'll..." Rich Boy trailed off. He didn’t want to say it.

"Die?" Jack suggested. If this boy was going to jump, then he at least had to face up to what was going to happen.

Rich Boy shied away, cringing. He didn’t want to hear it said. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea… But it would be over quickly and then he wouldn’t have to deal with everything anymore.

"Don't,” he mumbled.

Jack could see he’d made some headway, but Rich Boy wasn’t quite ready to climb into his arms. Or just back over the railings. Either would do. They were almost there, he just had a little more convincing to do.

"Can ya swim?" he asked.

"What?" Rich Boy said, confused. It seemed like an unnecessary and irrelevant change of topic.

"Can ya swim?" Jack repeated.

Holding his head high, Rich Boy tried to find some high ground in this conversation.

"Yes, actually,” he said proudly. Years of swimming laps in the pool suddenly seemed very worth it.

"Well ain't we the hoi polio,” Jack grinned. He wanted to talk to this boy some more in a setting that didn’t involve potentially imminent death, he was interesting. Intriguing. “Where?"

"You don't talk much sense, do you?" Rich Boy asked, confused. Now didn’t seem like the time for idle chitchat.

"Where'd ya learn?" Jack insisted, but he didn’t give the boy time to answer before continuing. As he walked, he moved steadily closer. "I'm guessin’ a pool. Somewhere warm. That water down there? That's about freezin’ temperature. When ya hit it it'll be like nuthin’ you've ever felt before. Pain beyond imagination. It ain’t a swimmin’ pool. Now will all due respect, come back over the railin’s."

He held out a hand, trying to look as reassuring as possible.

"I don’t..." Rich Boy tried, looking down at the water and back at Jack. He didn’t want pain. Pain was what he was trying to get away from – all he wanted was things to be over.

"Whatever you're tryin’ to get away from, this ain’t the way,” Jack said softly. They were nearly there; this boy was so close to climbing back over.

"How'd you...?" Rich Boy trailed off. He’d never said he had something specific to get away from.

Jack shrugged. It was obvious.

"No one hangs off the back of a boat for the thrill,” he said.

By this point he’d managed to get close enough to the railings to reach out and rest a hand on Rich Boy’s arm. He knew he shouldn’t – he was definitely not allowed to touch First Class passengers – but he was really hoping that this boy’s troubles could be helped by having someone to listen. Rich Boy relaxed against his touch and nodded slowly. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to be free, but he didn’t want to die. So he finally turned round and took Jack’s hand.

"Thank you,” he mumbled. He wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was saying thank you for, but it seemed right.

"You're welcome, sir,” Jack grinned, squeezing his hand.

"David. Sir makes me feel old,” he laughed. Sir was his father. Sir was the men his parents made him have dinner with in the First Class dining salon. He definitely didn’t want this boy calling him sir.

“So much better than Rich Boy,” Jack noted under his breath, quickly moving on when he saw the boy was about to question him. "Well then, nice to meet ya Davey. I'm Jack."

He would have offered him a hand to shake but he was too busy holding on. It was probably time to get Rich Boy – _Davey_ – over the railings.

“Come on,” he encouraged, gesturing for Davey to climb up.

Davey got one foot on the bar before he slipped and Jack was left holding him up as his feet hung out over the open ocean.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the closest Davey had ever felt to death and he realised very quickly that he wasn’t ready to give up on life yet. He yelled out and struggled, his first instinct to panic until Jack looked him straight in the eye to keep him calm.

“It’s okay, pull yourself up,” he ordered, and for once it was an order Davey was happy to follow.

Clambering up, he got over the railings and fell against Jack, breathing heavily and trying not to cry. Suddenly there was a hand stroking over his back and just before he was about say something about how worryingly intimate that felt, the quiet of the night was shattered by hard shoe soles on the wooden deck. Davey wrenched himself away from Jack and stood shaking in the cold air, hugging his arms around himself.

"Mr Jacobs, I heard shouting. Is everything alright?"

Davey hated that voice and to his constant annoyance, he knew it all too well. Mr Snyder, one of his father’s friends, had been around constantly ever since… what had happened; he was like a constant pair of eyes watching his every move like a hawk. So if he was close enough to hear Davey’s shouts, he’d probably been watching from the shadows. Which meant he’d seen everything. From hanging off the back to the boat to standing in Jack’s arms, and Davey wasn’t sure which was worse. Had Snyder wanted him to jump?

Brushing his hands down his shirt to try and straighten up, Davey tried to shake everything that had happened from his mind and force a smile.

"Yes. Perfectly alright,” he said, not meeting Jack’s eyes. Still, from Snyder’s look he needed to think of a semi-believable excuse for why he was at the back off the boat, on the Third Class deck. "I just... I was leaning over the railings to see the..."

His mind had gone blank of the word he needed and trying to mime with his hands was just getting him stared at by both Jack and Snyder.

"Propellers?” Jack suggested helpfully, sensing that whatever story Davey told was one he was going to have to commit to, so he might as well help make it at least partially believable.

Davey nodded and continued pulling together a quilt of an excuse from nonsense scraps.

"Yes! Exactly. And I slipped. And Mr..."

He realised with a start that he didn’t even know the name of the man who had been willing to jump off the back of a boat for him, and he turned to give him an apologetic shrug.

"Kelly. Jack Kelly,” the man offered, sticking out a hand for Snyder to shake that just got him a derisive scowl in return.

Davey couldn’t help a small smile. This man seemed more genuine than anyone he’d known in the longest time and Davey couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone he actually wanted to have a conversation with.

"Mr Kelly here helped pull me back,” he explained. That much was definitely true, physically and mentally, and he was thankful.

The cocky grin Jack gave him was worth it all – Davey wished he had that kind of confidence. He wondered what it would be like to look Snyder in the eye and not be afraid, not that Jack knew that Snyder was probably carrying a gun. That might affect his courage a little.

Snyder looked Jack up and down critically before fixing him with a cold stare.

"Convenient he had time to remove his boots and jacket,” he said, pointedly glancing at the little pile of clothing Jack had neatly placed on the floor.

Davey met Jack’s eyes and was pretty sure the horrified look he found there was reflected on his own face. Jack guiltily reached for his jacket and pulled his shoes back on, thankfully keeping silent as Davey grasped for some way to explain that was going on that didn’t make either of them seem culpable for something. Even if Snyder knew the truth, he was going to have to come up with a believable lie to tell his parents and based on past experience Snyder would be happy to poke holes in it. Just as Davey opened his mouth to spin a tale, Snyder cut him off with a smirk.

"Your parents are looking for you, Mr Jacobs. I don't think they'd want to hear about this, do you?" he said, far too sinister to mean good.

His eyes widening, Davey realised exactly what Snyder was trying to suggest and became convinced he was the most evil person to walk the earth. There was no reason for Snyder to dislike him, it was just coldblooded hatred. He knew full well that Esther and Mayer didn’t approve of Davey talking to people like Jack, and especially not alone.

"We weren't-" he protested, and they really hadn’t been but before he could finish the sentence another pair of shoes clicked across the deck. This time it was clearly heels.

"David! Heaven's sake, where have you been?" came his mother’s shrill voice.

Esther Jacobs was usually as painfully refined as society dictated but now she looked a little flustered. Clearly having her eldest son run out of dinner was stressful, and finding him on the Third Class deck with someone like Jack Kelly didn’t make that any better.

"Nowhere Mamma,” Davey replied quickly, risking a look at Snyder and praying he wasn’t going to say anything. “I just went for a walk. There was a little accident but I'm fine now,” he promised.

His mother inevitably focused on the presence of a stranger instead of on the fact there’d been an accident and Davey wanted to roll his eyes - she meant well but she never seemed to go about it in the right way. Her glare was fixed on Jack and Davey wasn’t so convinced no one was going to die before the night ended anymore.

"Who's this?" Esther asked, stoic and cold.

Clearly Jack had a death wish since he just stuck out his hand again and grinned.

"Jack Kelly, ma'am. Pleased to meet ya,” he said, far too cheerfully.

Esther gave him no more than a cursory derisive glance before refocusing her attention back on her son and appraising him so intently that he felt like she could see every thought he’d ever had, which was a terrifying prospect.

"David?" Esther prompted, sternly.

"No one!” Davey insisted. “I just met him. He saved my life."

Nothing he was saying was a lie and he was really hoping that that was going to work in his favour. And for once luck was on his side.

Esther nodded curtly. "I see.”

As much as Davey sometimes disagreed with his mother’s opinions, he knew her well and that was definitely an “I see’ that meant backing down and not one that meant he was in even more trouble. So, for once in his life, he was going to push things because he hadn’t met anyone else on the ship that was worth talking to and he wasn’t about to let Jack disappear back into the woodwork without so much as a conversation.

"I think it would be cordial to invite him to dine with us tomorrow, don't you agree? As a thank you,” he suggested, crossing his fingers behind his back and thanking every god he’d ever read about that Jack was keeping quiet.

It wasn’t quite an invitation in itself but Esther still couldn’t quite bring herself to rescind it. She forced a polite smile and turned to Jack.

"Quite,” she said. “Mr Kelly, I do hope you can make it."

Either Jack could feel the hatred behind the words and didn’t care, or he was gleefully ignorant. He just smiled and gave Davey a wink.

"Wouldn't miss it."


	4. Chapter 4

When a message came from Davey, through a petulant steward who clearly didn’t think Jack was all that, asking him to meet him on the First Class deck so they could talk, Jack leapt at the opportunity. He dragged his hands through his hair and brushed down his clothes, trying to look presentable. There was nothing he could do to blend in amongst the First Class passengers, but he couldn’t help but want to look nice for the cute boy. Diligently following the steward, Jack trekked down corridors and up stairwells that he definitely wasn’t allowed to take alone. He was almost surprised that Davey was even able to request he be allowed up.

Jack had no idea what Davey wanted but he was happy to see him when he finally made it up onto the First Class deck. Davey seem particularly aware of the presence of the steward, detached in his greeting and quick to dismiss him. As soon as they were alone, he started to walk, and Jack willingly followed.

"Why were ya goin’ to jump?" he asked, not bothering with cordiality. If Davey wasn’t going to offer information, he was going to pry.

Davey shushed him quickly, looking around at the mingling passengers to check none of them were listening. They were hardly inconspicuous – Jack’s clothing stuck out a mile amongst the sharp suits – but everyone was only watching as supposed to listening. Still, Snyder was probably hiding in the shadows.

"That's private,” he hissed. Even if they were alone, it wasn’t something he’d want to share. But it was, he supposed, the reason he’d wanted to see Jack again.

"I saved your life, don't I deserve to know why ya risked it?" Jack pushed, but only gently. There were only so many reasons someone would try to throw themselves off the side of a boat and none of them were good. He was pretty sure there was a swimming pool in the gym, he’d read about it, so Davey clearly hadn’t just been after a quick dip.

"No. You don't,” Davey was adamant, shaking his head resolutely. It wasn’t worth the risk. “I got you dinner, be thankful."

Jack just snorted. Whilst he was grateful for the chance to see Davey again that evening, he was less enthused about spending it with a bunch of snobs who were going to judge his every move and every word.

"I'd rather you answer my question,” he shrugged, just being honest.

Davey sped up a little bit in his walk, and they were starting to get strange looks for running laps of the deck. Taking his hands out of his pockets, Jack reached out to touch Davey’s arm to slow him but he just glared and yanked away from the touch. Still, Jack had a point with trying to get him to stop walking so fast and, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop taking his tension out on the decking, Davey stopped in his tracks and instead leant against the railings.

“Well I’m not going to,” he said finally. “Haven’t you heard of starting a conversation with hello?”

He hadn’t thought seeing Jack again would result in interrogation. Ignoring the boy stood beside him, he stared out towards the horizon, wondering where along the line he’d gone wrong. What was the decision that had brought him to where he was at that exact second? One wrong move. Life changed forever. Butterfly effect.  
“Why’d’ya invite me here?” Jack asked, confused. If Davey wasn’t going to talk to him, there wasn’t much reason to be there.

Davey shook his head to clear his thoughts. He’d wanted to see Jack but suddenly he had no idea what to say and he very much wanted him gone.  
“To thank you. And now I have thanked you,” he said, confident and trying to be dismissive.  
“And you’ve insulted me,” Jack added, laughing. He wasn’t offended but the entire situation was just amusing him.

Davey’s cheeks flushed. He’d been brought up to be respectful and well-mannered at all times, even if he hated the person he was talking to, and he was flustered at being called out for breaking the rules that had been drummed into him as a child.  
“Wha- No!” he protested. He needed to stop talking before he made things worse so he just grabbed Jack’s hand and shook it quickly before dropping it like it had burned him. “Thank you, Mr Kelly, for saving my life. I will see you at dinner but-”

Just as he was about to ask him to leave, Jack interrupted with a grin, making him second guess himself all over again.

“Made me walk all the way up here just for that?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

Davey blinked, stunned. Now it would seem rude to make him leave already and he grasped for something to change the subject.

"Well I…” His eyes fell on the sketchbook Jack had carried up with him, remembering it from the night before. “What even is this you carry everywhere?!" he asked, wincing at the overreaction in his voice.

He reached for the book, forgetting that it wasn’t polite to snatch other people’s belongings. Still, Jack handed it over pretty willingly and Davey took that as approval that he could open it.

The drawings were beautiful and Davey forgot everything he’d been worried about, enthralled. He started from the back, recognising the architecture of the ship. Most of the work was sketches of people, mainly Third Class passengers with grins on their faces. As he flicked further back the landscape studies became less familiar when they shifted to the city. The people remained the same, though. Smiles and laughter, in the harshest of circumstances. Davey couldn’t image what that was like. He’d never had to live through hardship, and he couldn’t imagine keeping happy through it. He wasn’t even happy with his own life – before he’d met Jack he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

Davey turned the page again. The sketch he found staring back at him had him swallowing roughly and pulling the sketchbook closer to his body to hide it from the people walking past. It was incredibly intimate, a drawing of a sleepy boy with heavily lidded eyes and a soft smile looking out of the page. Looking at Jack, presumably. He was clearly lying naked in a bed, but the sheets covered him from his waist so there wasn’t anything inherently inappropriate about it. It was the familiarity in the boy’s eyes, the way he looked so relaxed and so open, that made Davey think it was something to hide.

"Who is he?" Davey asked, not able to lift his voice any higher than a whisper.

"A guy I used to know,” Jack shrugged, nonchalant. Like he didn’t care what Davey had found even though, if it was what Davey thought it was, it was incredibly incriminating.

"He doesn't have a name?" Davey asked, hating the fact he was so intrigued.

Jack grinned wickedly. "I don't remember it."

It felt like a stone had dropped in Davey’s stomach. Everything became very clear and he slowly closed the sketchbook.

"Oh,” he mumbled. He handed the book back to Jack, forcing himself not to let his hand linger despite his reluctance to give all the drawings back, and pushed away from the railing. "Come with me,” he requested with no explanation, hoping Jack would be willing – and stupid enough - to follow him anyway.

He was ready to talk, but it had to be somewhere less busy.


	5. Chapter 5

"They want me to become a rabbi,” Davey explained, as soon as they had ducked into what he could only assume was a storage room. It was empty, and that was what mattered. He finally has a safe place and a relatively safe person, if those sketches he’d seen were anything to go by, to talk to and he needed to get something off his chest.

"Huh?" Jack blinked, confused. It hardly seemed like something that needed to be closely guarded, or anything to throw oneself off a ship over. As far as secrets went it was pretty innocuous – Jack knew from experience.

"My parents,” Davey tried again, needing Jack to know that none of this was his own choice. “That's why we're going to America."

It was half the secret at least, and Davey wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the other half. But they Jack looked at him with this bemused smile and reached out to tug on Davey’s sleeve to get him to stop half zoning out. When Davey just flinched away from the touch, Jack sighed and went back to questioning. He didn’t really like words, he wasn’t the best at them, but they were all he was allowed in this circumstance.

"To become a rabbi? Ain’t we got those in England?" he asked. Avoiding religion came naturally to him when he didn’t have the time for it. Sometimes he got free food out of someone doing ‘God’s work’ but when they tried to preach to him was when he left. He’d made the mistake of sticking around once, curious about what they had to say, and he didn’t like what he heard.

Davey scuffed the bottom of his shoe across the wooden-paneled floor, suddenly fixated on the pattern in the grain. Anything not to meet Jack’s eyes.

"They... They caught me with this boy,” he whispered, just loud enough for Jack to hear him. He wasn’t going to risk being any louder, just in case the sound spread to anyone outside.

This was body language Jack could understand. He’d met dozens of guys like Davey, so many of them on the streets. They got kicked out real quick when other people found out. At least he was a shade luckier than any of them; having money was a blessing in more ways than one. People would talk if they kicked someone like Davey out.

"Ah. Right. Well ain't that interestin’,” he smirked, leaning against the wall and trying not to look quite as cocky as he felt. It didn’t mean Davey was or would ever be _his_ , but it was definitely news he liked. The desire to reach for Davey’s sleeve came back but he stamped it out. Even if he was queer he was still rich – Jack wasn’t allowed to touch him.

Davey just shrugged. Jack said it like it was a good thing but he wasn’t so sure. It definitely wasn’t as bad a thing as he’d been told but he was still undecided if it was something he liked about himself or just tolerated. His parents had firmly decided that not only was it not tolerable, it was terrible and a personal affront to their family. Davey learnt early on that it was far easier to just go along with what they said. There had just been something about the open sea that had seemed so inviting. Whatever was waiting for him in America wasn’t going to be good and maybe oblivion would have been better. The ship, with all its grandeur and the company of so many clones of his parents, had begun to feel like a cage. And it still did, but the boy in front of him felt like the key.

"I told them I wouldn't do it anymore but they didn't believe me so now I have to go and pay my dues, I guess, and repay my debt to God,” Davey sighed. God wasn’t mad at him for what he’d done, that much he was convinced of. All his father had walked in on was the other boy kissing him. What could God possibly have against that?

Jack was looking at him intently, trying to work out exactly where he stood on the matter before responding, but Davey was hard to read.

"So your parents think they can stop ya from getting’ with other boys by sendin’ ya to America?" he asked, a little confused on the details of the plan that had led him to the First Class deck of the _Titanic_. In spite of the fact that Davey seemed upset to be leaving his home, Jack couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he’d been caught and was getting sent away. If he hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have met. At least he didn’t appear to be hung up on the guy he was leaving behind.

"Apparently,” Davey said, unable to stop a small smile. Jack clearly thought it was a ridiculous plan and he couldn’t help but agree.

"That's a laugh. Guys kiss each other there, too," Jack snorted. He wouldn’t be heading there if they didn’t. "What do _you_ want, Davey,” he asked, desperate to know more about this boy but trying hard not to show it. He wanted to maintain some pretense of nonchalance.

Davey thought for a second. He wanted his parents to be more supportive of him. He wanted society to be more accepting. At that exact moment he wanted to know what Jack’s lips tasted like. But, in the long run, he wanted to be happy – he just didn’t know how to put that into words. So instead, he gestured.

"That,” he sighed, pointing at the sketchpad under Jack’s arm.

It was immediately clear exactly which of the drawings he was referring to and Jack cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I really can't remember his name or I'd set the two of you up,” he admitted. It had been a one night stand and the only long-lasting memory he had of it was exactly how good the guy had looked in the morning, he’d just had to capture it at the time and now he couldn’t put a name or an occupation or an age to him. He’d been damn good in bed, though.

"No, not him,” Davey shook his head, his cheeks flushed an endearing pink that Jack wanted to turn to red. “ _That_. I want someone to look at me like that."

It wasn’t something he’d ever admitted to anyone but himself before, that much was obvious. In Jack’s mind he reached out and brushed his hand over Davey’s cheek, teasing him closer into a kiss. But Davey had money and status and did not want to be flirted with by a ragtag guy from Steerage.

"Some boy?" he asked instead, wondering if Davey could hear everything he meant behind the word. Someone that Davey was meant to be with, _deserved_ to be with, even if his parents would much rather it be a girl.

But Davey just gave him a small, genuine small and nodded.

"Perhaps,” he whispered, meeting Jack’s eyes and not looking away. He had nothing to be ashamed of.


	6. Chapter 6

Davey knew they couldn’t hole up in the storage room forever. If his parents didn’t come looking for him, Snyder definitely would; the idea of explaining why he was hiding in a small room with Jack was not something he wanted to dwell on and once he’d gotten everything off his chest he begrudgingly suggested they return to the deck. Jack seemed to sense that it wasn’t negotiable, following Davey back into the light and blinking as his eyes readjusted.

“So,” he began, trying to pick up the threads of their conversation again without saying too much in public. “How’d ya get caught?”

Davey’s cheeks flushed an endearing pink as he shot Jack what he hoped was a disapproving look.

“My door doesn’t have a lock,” he hissed. “We were only kissing.”

Jack just laughed, stopping to jump up and sit on the railing of the deck, putting his weight on the rope that passed next to his shoulder so he didn’t risk falling.

“What d’ya do for fun, Davey?” he asked. There was so much he wanted to learn about this boy, and seemingly so little time before he was going to be made to leave to go back to Steerage.

“Not a lot,” Davey shrugged. “Read, mostly.”

“Well what’d’ya read?”

Jack knew he wouldn’t have heard of any of the books Davey was likely to come up with, but before he could get even one title out Esther Jacobs swooped in, flanked by a several of other women from First Class. Jack tried not to cringe away from their skeptical appraisals as he jumped down from the railing and nodded respectfully to them. Two stood out in particular, notably not glaring at him like he didn’t belong. A young girl, about his age, who had to be related to Davey. The friendly blue eyes were the same, smiling at him the way Davey’s did in a manner Jack was pretty sure was involuntary. Mrs Jacobs had the same eyes but she didn’t smile with hers, and the friendliness had drained out of them long ago. The other unhostile face was older, peer maybe to Esther. But she looked like she was holding back a permanent laugh, bright and cheerful but stood a little apart from the rest of the women like they weren’t too fond of her.  

“David. Come along,” Esther Jacobs said coldly, fixing Jack in place with a glare that made it obvious he wasn’t invited.

Not dignifying his mother with a response, considering the disdain she was showing Jack, Davey turned to his new friend instead.

“See you at dinner,” he promised, offering a genuine smile at Jack’s tip of his hat before replacing it with a fake one to follow his mother down the deck, the girl who had to be his sister whispering frantically to him.

Jack was left awkwardly standing with the only First Class woman who hadn’t accompanied Mrs Jacobs – the cheerful one. He was suddenly very aware that he didn’t belong up there and didn’t have Davey to justify his presence anymore, but he wasn’t sure he knew the way back to Steerage alone.

"What are you going to wear?" the woman asked, and Jack knew she meant to the First Class dining salon. When he gestured down at the patched shirt and worn vest he had on, she tutted and sighed. "Oh no. Absolutely not. I'm not even sure they'd let you in. You can borrow some of my son's clothes, you're about the same size. The name’s Medda."

She held out her hand for him to shake and he it took it gladly. No one had even thought him worth the pleasantry so far and it made a nice change.

"Thank you,” he grinned, before introducing himself. He didn’t often take charity but if it meant accepting the loan of some clothes for the night so he could impress Davey a little then he’d make an exception.

Medda looked him up and down and nodded to herself. She’d overheard a lot about this boy and it seemed like most of the First Class passengers weren’t too impressed by him. Davey’s own story, dragged out of him by Sarah, had been something different to listen to.

"I heard you helped out David Jacobs,” Medda smiled, winking.

It was obvious she was trying to imply something but Jack wasn’t sure exactly what it was, stammering a response that tried not to give away the fact that he wanted to help Davey out by kissing him so deeply he forgot his parents were intolerant prats.

"Huh? I mean, um, what?" he tried, his mind tripping over itself when faced with the need for decorum.

Luckily Medda didn’t seem to mind. She laughed good naturedly and patted his shoulder, gesturing for him to follow her as she walked.

"The word you're looking for is _pardon_ , honey,” she corrected gently. “But that doesn't matter. His mother told me he slipped on the railings?"

"Oh, that,” Jack sighed in relief. At least that wasn’t completely unacceptable, unlike his many thoughts about the Jacobs boy’s lips. “Yeah. Well I could hardly let him fall." Shrugging like it was no big deal, he put his hands in his pockets and left it there. The less he said about that night, the better. Just in case his story contradicted Davey’s and someone went digging deeper into what had really happened.

Medda wasn’t stupid, and neither was she blind. From Davey’s and Sarah’s hushed tête-à-tête over breakfast, Davey thought this boy was worth something, and from the way Jack had watched him go just a few minutes ago the feeling was mutual. She’d been privy to many of Davey’s secrets – she listened and understood in a way his parents never would – and she knew, and didn’t agree with, exactly why Esther Jacobs was sending him away.

"He's a good kid, that boy. He's had it tough though - his parents aren't the most... open minded,” she said, deliberately vague. It was impossible to be certain what Davey had shared with Jack, but from the way the boy’s eyes bugged he knew what she was trying to get at.

"You know?" he whispered, not wanting to spill Davey’s secrets.

Medda laughed and nodded. She wasn’t exactly well liked by the majority of the high society women she was acquainted with – they thought her too brash, too confident and too loud – but the younger generation trusted her in spite of it all, telling her of their parents’ scandals and their own secrets. Things they couldn’t admit to their own families came out to her instead, and she listened and gave them advice whenever she could, playing mother hen to the children she never had. She’d known about Davey’s romantic interests long before his family had caught him kissing a school friend, and she recognised a crush when she saw one. It had been evident in both Jack and Davey’s eyes.

"Be careful with him, won't you?" she asked, a little worried. Jack hadn’t been brought up the way Davey had and, whilst that wasn’t a bad thing in itself, she’d wager he went through life, and love, at a faster pace.

It took Jack a moment to realise what Medda was suggesting but once it had sunk in his cheeks went a deep red.

"Oh! No, we ain’t... I mean... I haven't..." he stammered. He very much liked the idea of kissing Davey but he was still pretty sure it wasn’t allowed. Even knowing that there was the possibility for Davey not to find it abhorrent, if he wasn’t allowed to even stare at the First Class girls he definitely wasn’t allowed to make out with the First Class boys.

But Medda just winked conspiratorially at him. She knew young love when she saw it and she was well aware that it wasn’t easily prevented by a couple of rules.

"Take your time. He'll wait,” she promised, leading him off the First Class deck and inside in the direction of her cabin. Playing matchmaker for the evening sounded like fun and she was going to find him some clothes that Davey wouldn’t be able to look away from.


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as he stepped through the doorway into Medda’s stateroom Jack let out a low, impressed whistle. The corridors on the way there had been fancy enough but this was something else. It was enough to make someone forget they were on a ship, all dark wood paneling and plush furnishing and gold gilding. A million miles away from the Third Class cabin Jack was sharing with three other guys where there wasn’t a speck of gold in sight.

“It’s a bit much but some people like this sort of thing,” Medda shrugged. In truth she was happiest with the simpler things in life but everyone else paying for a First Class ticket expected the luxury.

“Some people like the Jacobs?” Jack suggested, risking being a little cheeky. Medda seemed like someone who was a little more like him than Esther Jacobs was.  
“Yes, exactly like them,” she laughed. “Their parents, at least. Not so much the kids.”

Jack nodded. Davey wasn’t pompous; he was sweet and strong and hurt. There was now a permanent ache in Jack’s stomach telling him to get to know this boy and to replace any previous bad memories he had of being kissed and walked in on with private new memories where he could explore and celebrate himself and be happy. He wanted to know more about him and Medda seemed like the perfect person to provide information.

“That girl, she’s Davey’s sister?” he asked, referring to the pretty blue-eyed girl from the promenade deck.

“Yes, that’s Sarah. She’s a sweetheart. They’ve got a little brother too. Les.” Medda offered the knowledge willingly. She wanted to see Davey happy and himself, and Jack seemed like the right person to make that happen.

“Huh. Do they… know?” he asked, not wanting to say it out loud. Usually he wasn’t shy about loving who he did but this was David’s truth and not his own, and the elaborate surroundings of the state room didn’t seem like the place to be talking about it.

Medda understood without the specifics.  
“Sarah does. Les is…” she trailed off.  
“Too young?” Jack suggested. It wasn’t a sentiment he agreed with but he knew not everyone shared his point of view.  
“So Esther says,” Medda sighed. “But he’s a nosy little child so if he doesn’t already know then he’ll figure it out soon. They left him at home for this trip, though.”

Something occurred to her that she hadn’t really noticed until she thought back: Jack’s little nickname.

“‘Davey’?” she asked, amused. As she turned to the wardrobe to rummage through for a suit that would fit Jack, she caught him blushing.

“I… Sorry,” he mumbled, not liking being called out for the over familiarity. He didn’t have any right to be calling him something that felt so affectionate but he loved how it made Davey smile every time he said it.

“If he doesn’t mind it then I don’t,” Medda shrugged. It was none of her business, really. She was only interfering because there was definitely a possibility that Davey wouldn’t let himself go towards what he wanted so easily because of what had happened the last time he’d acted on his feelings.

“He doesn’t,” Jack smiled softly. He liked that _Davey_ was a name apparently only he used.

Medda pulled a shirt out of a drawer and looked it over to make sure it would fit.  
“He likes you, kid,” she said, feeling like she was stating the obvious but wanting to make sure Jack heard it. Davey might not be saying it himself for a while.

Jack sat down on the edge of a chair, not quite comfortable enough to relax but needing to make himself feel smaller.

“I shouldn’t… I do, but I shouldn’t…” he groaned. If Davey was in Steerage Jack would probably have already made a move and with any luck they’d be making out by now. Class was so much difficult to navigate than gender. Who knew.

Medda just snorted.

“Oh forget all that. We’re on our way to the Free World, you’ve got all the right to like him back. Now, put these on. Let’s make you look suitably dapper for him, shall we?”

She handed him a set of clothes and some shoes that Jack was certain cost more than everything he’d ever owned combined. He would never have borrowed them if he wasn’t desperate to find some way to impress Davey. He just wanted to seem good enough.  
“Please,” he said honestly, taking the clothes with a grateful smile. He was determined to look irresistible.

 *** 

Medda walked Jack to dinner, not mentioning the fact that he’d have had no idea how to get there alone. Suddenly no one was giving him dirty looks or turning away and averting their eyes. Now he blended in with every other pompous, entitled gentlemen and it made him a little uncomfortable. He still knew he didn’t belong and he’d be far more comfortable down in the Third Class dining room – the food was awful but the company was far better. Except there was no Davey.

Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, watching all of the rich couples drift in to the dining salon, Jack was itching for a pencil. There was so much he wanted to draw, so many textures and details that he knew he could capture so well on the page but Medda had convinced him to leave his sketching supplies behind. He was still trying to commit the lines of the clock to memory so he could recreate them later when Davey suddenly walked into view and time stopped.

He looked incredible and Jack was, for once, speechless. The night before he’d been distracted by Davey hanging off the back of a boat so he hadn’t taken too much notice of his fancy clothes. But the pressed suit and the crisp white shirt cut Davey’s figure in all the right places and Jack wanted to let his hands follow all the lines of the tailoring. He was so caught up in his imagination that he almost missed that Davey was looking at him in exactly the same way. When he just caught a mirrored expression of desire in Davey’s eyes he fought a blush. Davey shook himself out of it and hurried down the stairs.

“Jack!” he said, excitement colouring his voice. He hadn’t been certain Jack would show, let alone looking like that. “You look… incredible.”

“Mr Jacobs,” Jack said formally, bowing and hiding a grin. “Hey, don’t laugh! I’m trynna be fancy,” he whined.

“You don’t need to do that,” Davey mumbled gently, wishing he could take his hand. In fact, he’d rather Jack didn’t act like something he wasn’t. He liked him exactly as he was.

“I’m afraid they’ll shoot me if I don’t,” Jack laughed, bringing back what he’d said the night before.

Davey’s eyes flashed with the memory but, just as he was about to say something, the rest of the Jacobs family appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Shush,” he insisted quickly. They couldn’t talk about what had happened.

Jack looked over his shoulder and sighed when he caught sight of what Davey had seen. Their little moment was over.

“Accompany me to dinner?” he asked, trying to copy all of the couples he’d seen making their way in pairs to the salon like they were heading onto the Ark.

Davey wanted to say yes. He wanted to take Jack’s arm and sit beside him and let their ankles brush together under the table. He wanted to sneak away after the meal and find a room with a lock on the door and finally get to kiss someone without being interrupted. But he wasn’t allowed.  
“You’re supposed to find a woman to escort,” he said sadly.   
“Well I don’t want to,” Jack said boldly, too concerned about how close Davey’s parents were getting to care about the people stood near them. “There’s a beautiful guy in front of me and I want ta ask him.” He maintained eye contact, not letting Davey look away.

“Jack-” Davey began, but before he could either manage to explain why that absolutely couldn’t happen or to ask if Jack knew somewhere they could go so he could wrinkle his shirt, his mother appeared behind him.

“Mr Kelly,” she said coldly, inclining his head just a little.

Jack offered her a grin and a small bow, ignoring the hostile vibes that were being hurled his way. He caught Sarah’s eye roll and encouraging smile over Esther’s shoulder and gave her a far more genuine greeting.

“Mother, you remember then man who saved my life,” Davey said, equally as cold as his mother - the similarity was eerie. It was a threat more than anything. Esther couldn’t risk being rude to Jack without stepping out of line.

“Yes. Well, David you better escort your sister in,” Esther said, firing the next shot. She must have overheard his conversation with Jack.

“Of course, Mother.”

Davey sighed and held out his arm to Sarah, accepting her sympathetic smile with a small nod.

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah said to Jack just before they walked into the salon following their parents.

Jack offered a pathetic wave and watched Davey walk away. The suit looked just as good from behind and, with Esther gone, he stared unabashed.

Medda’s laugh cut through his thoughts – clearly he wasn’t being subtle.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go,” she said, taking his arm and chattering away as she led him towards through to dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

“Tell us about the accommodations in Steerage, Mr Kelly. I hear they’re quite good on this ship.”

It was the first question that had been posed to Jack since they’d sat down and of course it had to be that one. He looked up at Davey, grateful that, even if he couldn’t sit next to him, he could watch him from across the table. It was a sight he’d never get bored of: Davey all done up in a suit with his hair combed. Although Jack could only image that he’d look even better with the jacket off and some buttons undone, hair tousled by roaming hands. He swallowed and looked away from the sympathy in Davey’s eyes, instead turning to face Esther, the source of the question.

“The best I’ve seen, ma’am. Hardly any rats,” he said, trying to be graceful.

It seemed to work. There were kind-hearted titters of laughter from the other people at the table – rich men and their wives to whom Davey had diligently introduced him – and they seemed to be laughing with him and not at him. Seeing her attempt at an insult had gone awry, Esther tried to cover her tracks.

“Mr Kelly is joining us from the Third Class. He was of some assistance to my son,” she explained briskly, not enjoying admitting to it.

Davey jumped in to define Jack as something beyond the cost of his ticket (whether he’d paid it or not).

“It turns out he’s quite the fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work,” he said, offering Jack a small, secretive smile. He was awfully fond of that one particular sketch.

Shooting Davey a reproachful glare, Esther cleared her throat. “Yes, well. David and I differ on what constitutes fine art.”

That seemed to end the conversation with an awkward silence. Dinner was served at just the right time, well-dressed servers coming forward with plates. It was uncomfortable to be waited on and Jack wanted nothing more than to get up and help, but that definitely wouldn’t have gone down well. Instead he looked down at his cutlery, ready to pick up a fork and eat some food that didn’t taste stale. Except there were three forks, three knives and two spoons staring back and him and his eyes bugged.

“Are these all for me?” he whispered to Medda beside him.

She laughed and patted his arm. “Start from the outside and work your way in.”

Jack nodded slowly and reached for the smallest spoon the furthest away from him. He looked up and found Davey smiling fondly at him and tried not to cringe. It was never fun being pitied and Jack was proud of the fact he didn’t live his life with airs and graces, he didn’t need Davey feeling bad for him that he didn’t which piece of cutlery to start with.

It was only a couple more minutes before the questioning turned back to Jack and he was the centre of attention again.

"So, Mr Kelly, what do you do?" Davey’s father asked, sounding far nicer than his wife. Mayer has been almost silent beside Esther for the voyage so far and Jack had to wonder if he was slightly more accepting of Davey and only going along with the trip to please her.

Just about remembering to swallow his mouthful of food before he spoke, Jack shrugged.

"Whatever pays. I draw mostly, like Da-” he stopped himself, forcing himself to be more formal, “Mr Jacobs said, but that doesn't make me any money.” He wished it did – occasionally he got a few pieces of shrapnel for a sketch if someone saw him drawing by the docks and asked for a commission, but he couldn’t live on that.

"And why are you going to America? What's there for you?" Mayer followed up, genuinely sounding interested.

Jack didn’t really have an answer for that. There weren’t a lot of reasons besides circumstance that he did anything but there were a lot of rich people looking at him and he was shuffling in his seat, needing to say something.

"It's somewhere new. I won the ticket playin’ poker – a lucky hand. A very lucky hand,” he said, meeting Davey’s eyes and trying not to think what things would be like had they not met. What if he’d jumped?, “- and I figured why not. Luck's weird like that. One moment I'm slumming it in Southampton and now I'm here eating a meal with more forks then I think I've used in my life."

Davey laughed at the small joke, trying to mask it with a cough. The abrupt outburst that dissolved into spluttering had Sarah patting him on the back.

"Something wrong, David?" she asked, concerned.

"No. No. Fine,” he insisted, pushing her hands away and quietening down. But Jack could still see the laughter in his eyes and he wanted it to stay there forever.

“Life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it,” Jack continued. “Figure I’ll go to New Mexico. Santa Fe. It looks nice on the post cards.”

There had been old photos of a desert sunset with endless sky broken only by sand dunes pinned up next to where he slept, and it looked more peaceful than anywhere Jack had ever been. He’d left them behind, not having time to go back to his little space under the bridge after the game to collect them. Not that they were technically his in the first place; he’d lifted them from a corner shop when no one was watching.  
“What a strange existence,” Esther said, sounding scandalised.   
“I ain’t ever known anythin’ else. Ma’am,” he pointed out, picking up a bread roll and taking a bite. Not everyone had the luxury of a bed to sleep in and a roof over their house.

“And I’ve never known anything but this,” Davey whispered, like he was questioning everything.

Jack only just heard it but he looked over, shocked. Catching the conflicted look on Davey’s face he addressed him directly.

“I want to make each day count,” he said, heavy implication in his voice. Davey needed to do what he wanted, not what Esther wanted.  
“To making it count,” Sarah agreed, holding up her glass and rubbing Davey’s back reassuringly.

Jack nodded gratefully to her when everyone picked up their drinks and echoed her. Davey didn’t quite manage to mumble his way through the phrase but he did lift his glass up a couple of inches, meeting Jack’s eyes without even trying to hide his longing. It sent a deep-bone tremble down Jack’s spine.

The meal continued without much further incident and suddenly it seemed like he’d be making his way back down into the bowels of the ship far too soon. He tapped Medda gently on the arm and mumbled a request to her, smiling gratefully when she handed him her pencil and a scrap of paper from her pocket. Scribbling a message onto the paper and tucking it up his sleeve he whispered a ‘thank you’ and handed back the pencil. This was his chance to help Davey be free. Just for one night.

Five minutes later Mayer stood up and gestured to Jack and Davey. “Coming to the smoking room, or are the two of you staying out here with the women?” he asked, laughter behind the words.

Jack climbed to his feet and shook his head. He couldn’t quite bring himself to spend any more time with people who thought good conversation was bragging about their businesses and trying to point out other people’s flaws.

“I need to get back,” he explained.

Davey looked devastated. “Must you, Jack?” he asked. He didn’t want to go back to his crushing reality.  
“I’d better go back to row with the other slaves,” he joked, smiling good naturedly.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Esther nodded, far more serious.

Walking round the table and bowing formally to Davey, Jack winked at him just out of his mother’s sight.  
“Thank you for the invitation. I’m glad you’re alright, Mr Jacobs,” he said, shaking his hand.

When he stepped away, Davey’s eyes went wide. The piece of paper that had been hidden up Jack’s sleeve was now pushed up against his palm. Trying not to react so his mother wouldn’t get suspicious – that note could say anything – he waited until Jack was almost out of sight to unfold it and process Jack’s untidy scrawl.

 

_Know something else._

_Meet me at the clock._

 

*** 

When Davey walked out into the entrance hall Jack was studying the clock with an artist’s eye if ever he’d seen one, but then suddenly that gaze was turned on him and he never wanted Jack to look away. It would have fixed him on the spot if it wasn’t for the tug he felt in his stomach that had him walking up the stairs and barely resisting taking them two at a time. Neither of them said anything even as Davey made it to the landing and forced back a grin. When Jack reached out and took his hand that grin turned to a look of horror, because they were in public and could not be doing this – getting caught would be the end of everything. But Jack brought his hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly and chastely, like men had been doing to their female partners all evening. He dropped it quickly afterwards, not wanting to push things.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that all evenin’,” he whispered with a small laugh, before holding out his arm and grinning when Davey took it without hesitation. “Wanna go to a real party?”


	9. Chapter 9

Davey watched with a smile on his face as Jack danced with a little girl, no older than five, twirling her round and round until she was giddy and giggling. The whole room just seemed happy to be alive, with no one worrying about decorum or how other people were looking at them. It was exhilarating and he felt out of breath just being there. An upbeat jig he didn’t recognise had him tapping his feet in time with the music as he took a tentative sip from the glass of cider Jack had presented him with. It was tart and bitter but he found himself liking it and he swallowed another gulp.

As soon as they’d made it out of the First Class only areas Jack had shrugged off his jacket and pushed up the sleeves on his shirt, running his fingers through his hair to loosen the hair gel and pulling off his tie. Davey’s mouth had gone dry from just how good Jack looked when he was a little disheveled and found himself wanting to assist in the process, but he managed to keep his hands to himself. It made him happy that Jack was still respectful of the clothes he’d been lent, carefully draping them over the back of a chair before joining in the fray of dancing in the Third Class dining room – Davey liked Medda and was glad Jack seemed to feel the same. He’d kept his own jacket and tie on at first, terrified of the consequences if he lost them. It was already going to be difficult to explain where he’d been without adding extra things to atone for. But it was far harder to blend in wearing white tie dress so, after a few sideways looks, Davey had followed Jack’s example and stripped off his jacket and tie. It felt nice to be a little more free. He didn’t have to keep up any airs or graces.

After the song had ended and Jack had bowed to the little girl with mock seriousness, he led her back to her father, sat opposite Davey at the same table.

“I’m gonna dance with him now, okay?” Jack said to the girl, tapping the end of her nose to make her smile when she glared at him for his words. Then he held out his hand to Davey. “Come with me.”

Davey had taken his hand before he’d properly realised what was about to happen and before he could protest he was being pulled to his feet.  
“Wait, no! No!” he whispered, not wanting to make a scene. The music started again and suddenly there was a lump in his throat. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. We’re gonna to have to get a little closer. Like this,” Jack said, letting one of his hands drop to Davey’s waist and stepping closer until there was no spare space between them and their shirts were brushing together. The last time Davey had been this close to a boy, this whole trip to America had been the result.

"Jack! This is not okay,” he hissed, but he couldn’t quite force himself to step away.

Ignoring his complaints, Jack started to move his feet and Davey had no choice but to try and keep up.

"Sure it is,” he shrugged.

"People are staring,” Davey countered.

And it was true, they were. The little girl was watching them with disdain but he could cope with her infantile jealousy. It was the adults who were looking and whispering that had nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Still, his hands automatically found Jack’s shoulders.

"People have bigger problems than the two of us,” Jack promised, barely even reacting to the others in the room. “They're starin’ because you have two left feet and won't let go."

Davey blushed and took his hands back, crossing his arms in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

"No, not what I meant,” Jack laughed, coaxing Davey’s arms back around him. “I mean _let go_. Relax. Just go with it."

Davey liked being close to Jack, he really did. He wasn’t particularly keen to make it stop so he tried to take a couple of steps before just falling over his feet and only staying upright because Jack caught his weight against his chest.

“I don’t know the steps,” Davey complained.

“Neither do I,” Jack smiled. “Just go with it. Don’t think.”

Davey hadn’t done this before. He knew how to dance, with endless lessons with Sarah peppering his childhood. It was considered mandatory and he’d been passable enough at it, able to keep a rhythm and not trip over his feet. But that was all choreographed and proper and nothing like this. For one, he was used to leading, with the skirts of whoever he was dancing with swishing around his ankles, but Jack knew this better than he did and he resigned himself to following, and for once there was no unnecessary fabric in the way. It wasn’t an accurate comparison though, since he’d never danced this close to a girl. His chest was brushing against Jack’s with every turn and that was enough to get him breathless even without the physical activity. It would be so easy to kiss him.

The longer they danced the more Davey started to enjoy himself. He was grinning as Jack spun him round and round, faster and faster. Jack was right, no one was really staring at him, and he was happy. So, so happy. His hand was caught tightly in Jack’s, the other resting on his shoulder while Jack held his waist. It was so intimate that he wasn’t sure he’d felt this close even to the boy he’d kissed. He understood why the little girl had been so giddy dancing with Jack – it was exhilarating.

Just as Davey was starting to relax, Jack realised the wooden stage in the centre of the room wasn’t entirely full and stepped up onto it, dragging Davey with him. He put his hands into his pockets and starting tapping his feet in time with the music, almost effortlessly performing a jig. Davey watched with a grin on his face, impressed. There was a lot more to Jack Kelly than met the eye, but Davey was determined to rise to the challenge. He diligently copied each move until he was dancing just as fast as Jack was.

Jack stopped dancing himself, watching as Davey laughed and finally let go. There was freedom and happiness in Davey’s eyes and he didn’t care so much that each step wasn’t perfect. Jack was in love. He’d only known this spoilt rich boy for a couple of days and yet he’d never felt more like staying for breakfast the morning after. Not that he was likely to get him into bed any time soon. Davey looked up at him with a smirk, amused by the look of surprise on Jack’s face that he could keep up with the jig, and that made him fall a little further.

Eventually Davey couldn’t keep going with the dancing, needing a drink. The only thing around was cider and when Jack handed him an almost full glass stolen from a nearby table, he downed it in one go. He met Jack’s shock with a grin.

“Never seen a rich boy drink before?” he teased, biting his lip. He wasn’t sure what had come over him but the alcohol and the sense of freedom definitely weren’t helping.

Jack was going crazy. This boy was like no one he’d ever seen before and he never wanted to let him go. But eventually he knew Davey was going to have to go back to First Class with its gilded furniture and stuffy laughter. Even if he seemed to fit in perfectly with the folks at the dance, at least after a few drinks. There were cracks in the persona his family had practically created for him and Jack wanted to grab a sledgehammer and smash the rest away, but it wasn’t up to him.

Davey had never been happier, but as he grabbed Jack’s hand and joined the chain of people dancing around the room he failed to notice Snyder at the door, watching him hold hands with a boy without a care in the world. Information that was undoubtedly going to get back to his parents sooner rather than later.


	10. Chapter 10

Sarah rushed into the covered balcony they’d been taking breakfast on for the voyage so far, hoping her brother would already be there. When she found him sat pouring himself a cup of tea, she couldn’t help but let out a tiny shriek of excitement. She wasn’t allowed to do much she considered fun, for that matter neither was Davey, so when she realised that he hadn’t come back to his cabin the night before and their parents were getting worried, she had to know all the details. From the way Davey’s cheeks turned scarlet when he looked up and found her insistently questioning him just with one look, she knew for certain there was a story to be heard.

“So, tell me where you got up to. Mama was most concerned,” she said, trying to be casual as she sat down and helped herself to some toast.

Davey was very focused on his tea, stirring it intently with his spoon and staring at the vortex he created as if it held the answers to the universe.

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, but the redness in his cheeks was seemingly there to stay.

“It was that boy, wasn’t it? Jack,” Sarah grinned, leaning forward and abandoning all pretense that she was interested in food.

She’d seen the way they’d been looking at each other over dinner the day before and there was definitely something there. If Davey was happy, she was happy, so she didn’t share her parents’ desire to punish him for being attracted to men. From the look of Jack, her brother had good taste.

“Sarah! Stop,” Davey hissed, finally putting down his spoon and meeting her eyes. He was fighting back a smile – it was difficult not to when it was Jack he was thinking about.

“He must really be something,” Sarah sighed, slightly jealous that her brother had managed to find someone and she hadn’t. Although when she did it was unlikely to result in her being sent to another country for religion-based erasure therapy, so maybe it was worth giving Davey this one.

Davey was so close to telling Sarah exactly how amazing his night of freedom had been when he saw Esther walk into the room over Sarah’s shoulder. That put an abrupt end to any suggestion of that idea.

“Not here,” he hissed, silencing his sister with one serious look.

No one spoke as their mother waited for the maid to pull out her chair and pour her some tea. Sarah offered Davey a discreet reassuring smile, but there was little she could actually do about Esther. Anything she said would just make things worse.

“David, Emmeline tells me you were not back in your room until early this morning,” Esther said, voice perfectly level as she broke the silence.

Emmeline, having retreated to the corner after serving Esther tea, gave Davey a sad smile. She hadn’t had any choice but to admit she hadn’t seen him all evening – if she was caught lying she’d have been fired on the spot. Davey gave her a subtle nod to show he understood. This wasn’t her fault. The only person who could take any blame for it was himself, and probably Jack. Definitely Jack. The question Esther had managed to ask without even phrasing it as such was still lingering in the air and he had to answer it somehow.

Davey swallowed awkwardly. “I was… Well, you see… I got caught up.” _In Jack’s arms._ He wasn’t going to say that last part out loud. There was almost nothing in the world that he wouldn’t have sacrificed to spend the entire night with Jack, but thoughts of how his parents were react were one of the few things that would do it.

It turns out he might as well have stayed with Jack.

“Yes, I’m sure your excursions below decks took up much of your night,” Esther said, practically biting the air in restrained anger.

Davey blinked in surprise. While it was understandable that Emmeline noticed he wasn’t back, there was no way she could have known where he was. Which meant…

“You had Snyder follow me,” Davey realised, half betrayed and half furious. It felt like a huge invasion of privacy, even if he had been doing the one thing he’d been ordered not to do.  
Frowning at Davey’s lack of a title, Esther corrected him pointedly. “ _Mr._ Snyder followed you of his own accord. He was worried about you, and had good reason to be,’ she argued, setting down her tea and folding her arms. As far as she was concerned Davey had no case for an argument.

“I wasn’t in danger,” Davey tried to explain. Anything but. If it were under any other circumstances, he’d probably have felt uneasy being down in Steerage, having heard stories of how unruly and unpredictable the lower classes could be all his life. But Jack had made him feel safe, and had shown him that not a single person in that dining hall had any inclination to hurt him. Everyone had been all about celebration and openness, far more so than First Class dinners were. Even when Jack had spun him round and round on the dance floor until he was dizzy no one had uttered so much as a slur.

“Really?” Esther said, clearly not believing her son.

Sarah looked like she wanted to intervene and Emmeline was clearly uncomfortable standing and witnessing the argument, but Davey knew it was his battle alone to fight. He shot Sarah a well-practiced look from their childhood that meant _don’t_.   
“I was… It was fine,” he promised, stammering a little. No matter what he said, he wasn’t going to change her mind. Deep down he knew that.

Waving her hand for Emmeline to bring over a carafe of juice, Esther continued in a tone that echoed with authority and severity.   
“Physical danger aside I’m sure I do not need to remind you of the spiritual danger of fraternising with men in that way.”

“We just danced!” Davey protested. There was no point in denying it, no doubt Snyder had seen him pressed against Jack’s chest, but they hadn’t even kissed. When Jack had coyly suggested they find somewhere quieter after Davey’s feet started to hurt, the request had been met with a polite but firm ‘no, thank you’. He’d wanted to go with this reckless, ridiculous man, but he knew he had to get back. The offer of physicality had been laid out and he’d declined – couldn’t his mother understand that everything she thought about his ‘urges’ being primal and sexual were nonsense? Well, they were a little sexual, but she didn’t need to know that.

“That is inappropriate, David,” she hissed, losing her airs and graces for just a second. Clearly Snyder had reported back on just how close he and Jack had been and she wasn’t impressed he was taking it so lightly.  
“No, it was dancing. Nothing more. Just dancing,” he begged her to understand, starting to wish he’d done more when Jack had offered it. If he was going to get punished for dancing, he should have done something worth getting punished for – although he couldn’t even imagine what might happen to him if he’d been caught kissing another man again. The bottom of the ocean would start to look more preferable than facing his mother.

Esther took a deep breath. “You will not be doing it again,” she said, making a last attempt to stay calm.

Davey was anything but.

“Why not?!” he demanded. It was a question he already knew the answer to but he was starting to doubt every reason he’d even been told. It all seemed to pale when compared to how happy being with Jack made him.

“You know why not.”

Esther only meant to stand up to express her authority, but she managed to clip the edge of the table as she did and, with an angry crash, the whole thing tipped and breakfast went toppling to the floor. Emmeline gasped, running over and starting to collect the broken pieces of crockery as Sarah bent down to help, giving her mum an angry glare. Davey couldn’t move, staring at Esther whilst she took in what she’d done without a word and fled from the room. As soon as she was gone, he joined his sister on the floor collecting shards of glass and depositing them into a mostly unbroken bowl.

“It’s alright, miss, sir. I can-” Emmeline protested, but Davey was having none of it.

“Please,” he said, wanting to help. This was his fault anyway.

With a nod of thanks from Emmeline, he continued to pick up the pieces. He’d never been sure what she thought of his relationships with other men, not that there had been many of them, but she’d never treated him any differently for knowing and always had a smile to offer. Maybe she just thought compassion was more important than who he kissed behind closed doors. If only his mother felt the same way.

***

Davey was lacing Sarah’s corset by the time they spoke of it again. He’d known how to do it for as long as she’d been made to wear one and she much preferred him to tie it than anyone else. Both their mother and Emmeline, on Esther’s orders, laced her in so tightly she could barely breathe but Davey was always far more careful to make sure she was comfortable. Comfort being something Esther seemed to forbid, he didn’t get the chance to lace it often.

“So, you went dancing?” Sarah asked, dying to know more. If her mother knew and Snyder knew then she should definitely be next on the list, she decided, and Davey was probably dying to gossip about it deep down. She just had to make him realise it.  
“Maybe,” Davey mumbled, more reserved after what had happened at breakfast, and she’d have bet any sum that he was blushing again.

Maybe wasn’t a no, and anything that wasn’t a no was a yes. Davey had no reason to be lying about it if it hadn’t really happened. Still, she wanted to hear all about how happy this cocky Steerage boy had made her brother.

“Down in Third Class?” she pushed.   
“Maybe,” Davey sighed again.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Sarah. She had held him while he cried after his parents had found him with Albert, and again after they’d sat him down and told him what their plans were to get him ‘back to normal’. She’d repeated reassurance after reassurance that he was not sick and not wrong and that she’d always support him, and he owed her everything for keeping him sane.  
“David! Talk to me!” Sarah insisted when it became clear she wasn’t going to get anything else from him.

He pulled a little harder on the next loop of the corset ribbon – not tight enough to hurt but enough to pinch and get Sarah to glare at him over her shoulder. She was prying into something she knew was private and that he was instinctively protective over, but he knew she was probably dying for some interesting gossip to break up the endless talk of industry and money they’d been subjected to on the trip.

“Okay, fine,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yes, he took me down to Third Class. And yes, we danced.”  
“Close?” Sarah asked, grinning.

Davey was silence for a long moment, pulling through another three loops of her corset, and she was expecting to have to ask again, but then he spoke, his voice almost afraid.  
“Yes. Probably too close,” he mumbled, tiny and uncomfortable. As good as it had felt at the time, down in Third Class, caught up in the euphoria of freedom and feelings and alcohol, it was far harder to vocalise in the harsh light of day.

Having had enough of not seeing Davey’s face in this conversation, Sarah spun around and took his hands, squeezing them gently in an attempt to convince him everything was okay.  
“You like him,” she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question. He hadn’t been this caught on anyone before.

Davey pulled away, sitting down on Sarah’s bed and knotting his fingers together so they wouldn’t shake and give away how terrified he was to even be voicing his feelings aloud.  
“I can’t,” he said, not wanting to get his hopes up. Nothing good had ever come of kissing boys. Logic dictated that nothing good would come of loving boys, either.  
Sarah shook her head. “Not what I asked. You know-”

Just as she started to go through her usual speech of how Davey was perfectly fine the way he was and just needed to bear their parents trying to suppress him until he could get away. Then he could kiss all the boys he wanted behind closed doors and no one would care, or even know. But before she could even get started, Esther walked into the room without knocking. When she found her two eldest children sat on the bed, clearly talking about something deep, her eyes narrowed.

“David, out,” she ordered, not giving him any light treatment despite the rough state he was evidently in.

“Mama, he’s helping m-” Sarah tried to protest, gesturing to her half-laced corset.

“I will do that. Your brother will wait outside,” Esther interrupted again, holding open the door for Davey to head out into the living room. Not wanting to make things worse for himself, he silently and quickly followed instructions, patting Sarah on the shoulder as he stood up in a _thank you for trying_ and a _sorry for whatever she’s about to say to you_.

As soon as the door was shut, Esther turned to face her daughter and motioned for her to stand up and turn around. Sighing, Sarah complied and braced herself as her mother started pulling the laces on her corset as tight as they would go, starting from the very bottom to re-do the looser loops Davey had already done.

“Have you been talking to him?” she asked, but it was clear the question wasn’t as simple as she phrased it to be. _Have you been talking to him about Jack? About men?_ Sarah wasn’t stupid – she understood that refusing to condemn her Davey for who he was didn’t put her in Esther’s good books.  
“He’s my brother,” she said, keeping her voice completely level and refusing to wince when she felt her corset pushing at her ribs.

“I am aware. You should not be supporting his… hobbies,” Esther explained coldly, her words a little caught like they were hard to get out.

Sarah just rolled her eyes, glad her mother couldn’t see her face. “They’re not hobbies.”

“No…” Esther agreed, slowly. That hadn’t been quite the right word. “They’re more dangerous than that.”

“Albert wasn’t dangerous. You’ve known him all your life,” Sarah argued.

The boy Davey had been caught with was a long-time family friend. Esther and Mayer hadn’t thought twice about letting them be alone together. Sarah often wondered about whether he was getting the same horrible treatment as Davey was, but even if he were there’d be nothing she could do to help. Perhaps it was better for her own sanity if she didn’t know.

“Yes,” Esther clipped. She hated being reminded that she had introduced Davey to the boy who had, in her opinion, ‘corrupted’ him. “Well. Clearly he was a bad influence.”

Reaching the last row of eyelets, she tied off the corset ribbon and headed to Sarah’s wardrobe to pull out a dress for her.

“Do not encourage him, Sarah, is that understood?” she ordered.  
“He’s my brother,” Sarah repeated stoically, boldly meeting Esther’s eyes. She loved him despite everything- in fact nothing even had a bearing on how much she loved him, and she wouldn’t speak against him.

“Regardless, if I hear you’ve been reinforcing his unhealthy desires I will never allow you to speak to him again,” she said, her tone implying the conversation was over.

Ignoring the horror in her eyes, Esther stepped forward to help Sarah into her dress.

***

Davey waited alone in the small living room for what seemed like days. He couldn’t hear shouting coming from the bedroom, so hopefully Sarah wasn’t facing punishment because of what he’d done. He tried to regret it, Jack and the dancing and the secrets he’d told, he just couldn’t bring himself to. He wanted Jack. Every time he considered getting off the _Titanic_ in New York and never seeing him again, his heart hurt. It wasn’t normal to be this invested with someone that he was afraid to even touch, he knew that, but Jack seemed like no one he’d ever met.

Interrupting his reverie, Esther came out of the bedroom and not-too-lightly shut the door behind her. It didn’t escape Davey’s notice that his mother seemed to be interrupting him an awful lot lately.

“You are not to see that man again. Do you understand me?” she said, without so much as a greeting first. When she got a stony glare in response, almost identical to her own, she pushed for an agreement. “David? I forbid it.”

He had no idea where the confidence came from, but for once Davey managed to get out exactly what he wanted to say to Esther.

“Oh stop it, mother. He’s not going to hurt me,” he snapped. And he was convinced it was true. Jack had saved him from jumping off the back of a ship before he’d even met him. He trusted this man with his life.

Outraged, Esther took several steps forward. She managed to seem far more domineering than her small stature suggested she should be able to be. David wasn’t understanding how serious this was.

“This is not a game,” she hissed. “You know what’s going on.”

“Of course I know what’s going on,” he said, shocked at his own audacity. This confidence was new. “It’s me it’s going on with! And you never let me forget it.”

He just wanted to be normal. Thanks to Esther’s meddling in his life, everything revolved around the fact he thought men were attractive. If she let him live as he wanted to, it would just be one part of his life. One part of himself.

Esther wanted to explode at her son and shout to get him to understand the severity of what he was talking about. But then she took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down. She had to get through to him that this was about more than him, more than her. This was about his soul.

“You have found yourself on a path of sin, David. I don’t understand you. This trip- this chance, it’s your only option to reconnect with God and heal yourself,” she implored.

Davey felt sick. He’d been largely ignoring the religious reasons for staying away from Jack, not really giving them much weight in his decisions. The reminder that this could be against God’s plan sent a cold rush shooting down his spine.

“How can you put that on my shoulders?” he asked quietly. He wasn’t trying to sin, he just wanted to be happy.  
“It’s the truth and you know it. How can you… I want the best for you.” Esther sighed, sensing she was getting through. “This isn’t the best. These… relations you’ve been having. They spell nothing but pain for you.” 

Davey let himself sink into a chair, burying his face in his hands.

“This is so unfair,” he complained, his voice muffled.

Not even trying to comfort her son, Esther folded her arms and delivered one final blow.  
“You succumbed to the temptation, David. This is your retribution.”


	11. Chapter 11

Jack knew that the sensible thing to do would be to wait for Davey to contact him, if that ever happened. This boy was rich, confused and incredibly sweet but the last one didn’t negate the first two. Jack had rules about not fraternising with guys who didn’t know what they wanted, and Davey definitely didn’t. He’d clearly enjoyed dancing, but there had been a look of terror in his eyes when Jack had asked him to stay a little longer that spoke a thousand words. Whatever his family was telling him was eating away at him and it was a shame. Jack could see an incredible man underneath all of the layers of repression and self-torment that his parents had heaped on top of him. Every scrap of sense he had told him to stay away until Davey had worked everything in his head out, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to his own advice.

It was surprisingly easy to get to the First Class decks. Jack had borrowed a once-smart coat from one of the men he was sharing a cabin with and swiped an abandoned top hat he found on his way up through the ship (it was only _borrowing_ , he was planning to give it back). Walking with purpose got him a long way, no one had any reason to question him if he directed his eyes to exactly where he was planning on going and strode there without wavering. Tugging the coat tight over his worn clothing and nodding under the brim of his hat to stewards who opened doors for him, Jack finally found himself back to the grand staircase he’d met Davey at the night before.

People were filing past him into the dining salon for, so the signs said, a Sunday morning service, but Jack was pretty sure the boy he couldn’t get out of his head wasn’t going to be attending a Christian service. When he spotted Medda across the room, Jack wove through the crowds and tapped her on the shoulder with a grin. It was a relief to see a friendly face.

“Jack!” Medda said, surprised but happy to find him stood in front of her. “David isn’t-” she began, but he only waved her away.

“I know. But where is he? Please tell me you know,” he begged. He really liked this man and ten hours without him was already too long.

Medda smiled fondly at him, recognising the rush and eagerness of young love.

“His cabin, most likely. I heard he got into a… a spot of bother with Esther for spending the night with you,” she winked.

Jack blushed. If only. “He didn’t. Not like that, we just went to a party. I asked him to stay but he left. He’d not in trouble, is he?”

The plan had been to give Davey the best night of his life, not to get him punished for having a little fun.

“From what Sarah told me, he’s a little shook up,” Medda explained, getting serious. “Esther thinks you somewhat of a bad influence.”

“Something tells me he had no objections,” he grinned cheekily, looking down at his shoes. “Do you know what his cabin is?”

Medda could have thought about not telling him – it wasn’t really her business, of course, and she couldn’t know for sure if Davey would be too happy with her telling Jack where he was staying. But on the other hand, Davey could be _thrilled_ to have his new… interest turn up on his doorstep. Whispering the cabin number to Jack and leaving him with another wink, she walked off into the dining room. Left to his own devices, Jack went hunting for the correct corridor.

The ship was like a labyrinth and every corner was another identical passageway of endless doors. It took Jack a good half hour to find numbers that suggested he was getting near to Davey’s cabin and when he did, he picked up speed as he tried not to run down the hall. Almost skidding to a halt in front of the door, Jack took a couple of deep breaths. He had no idea what he wanted to say, he just knew he wanted to see those blue eyes again. Lifting his arm and knocking on the polished wooden door, Jack waited.

When it opened, it wasn’t Davey on the other side.

Snyder. Jack had been introduced to him somewhat curtly by Davey at dinner and had heard whispered stories of how the friend of Mayer’s was acting practically like Davey’s jailor on this trip, supposedly keeping him away from, well, from people like Jack.

“Mr Kelly, I am certain your ticket does not grant you access to this part of the ship,” Snyder said, with a thinly veiled threat behind the words. “There’s nothing for you here.”

He didn’t seem too surprised that Jack had blagged his way back up to First Class, or that he’d found Davey’s cabin.

Swallowing a little fear, Jack stood strong. “Just a few minutes with Davey, please. That’s all I want.”

Before Snyder could reply, there was movement in the cabin and a confused ‘Jack?’ told him that Davey was definitely there. But Snyder just stepped outside and shut the door behind him, sealing off Jack from the one thing he wanted.

“Mr Jacobs and his family remain grateful for the assistance you provided him on the rear deck but, following dinner, your presence here is no longer required. They offer this, and I suggest you take it and return to your part of the ship,” Snyder ordered, holding out some money.

Jack just looked at it in disgust. No. This couldn’t be what Davey wanted. There was no way he’d want to pay Jack off and not see him again. He’d seen just how much Davey had wanted to stay with him in his eyes, nothing could have changed so much overnight.  
“I just-” he tried, but Snyder cut him off.  
“No. You just want to leave, that is all,” Snyder said, gritting his teeth. He took a step forward and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. When Jack saw a glint of metal, he realised that there was no chance of getting to see Davey this way. Holding his hands up in defeat, he backed away and hurried back down the hall. There had to be something else he could try.

***

Waiting when you weren’t sure exactly what you were waiting for, or when it was going to happen, was exhausting. Jack walked circles around the First Class deck, avoiding eye contact with everyone and trying to blend in. All anyone aboard with money seemed to do was stroll laps of the ship, so it was a fair bet that eventually Davey would turn up. After an hour without even seeing Medda, Jack was almost ready to give up. Then Jack saw him, several steps ahead, looking a little shaky and worse for wear, walking arm in arm with his sister. Unable to stop himself, Jack surged forward a little and tapped on Davey’s shoulder, letting out a little happy sigh when he finally saw those eyes.

“J-Jack…” Davey stammered, caught off guard and faced with his worst temptation.

“Talk to me, please. Five minutes,” Jack begged, resisting the urge to stroke his thumb over Davey’s cheek.

Considering her brother seemed to be in a state of shock, Sarah stepped in and gave Jack a smile.

“He’s had a rough morning,” she explained. “Last night… well it didn’t sit well with our mother.”

Jack winced. “Yeah, I heard. I’m so sorry, Davey. I never meant for that to happen.”

Davey just about managed a nod. He wanted to reach out and pull Jack closer. To dance, or just to hold him. Either would do. After having spent so long the night before pressed against him it seemed stupid for there to be so much distance between them when the alternative was so much better. Except it wasn’t, he reminded himself, because this was his trial and he was supposed to be better than it. As intoxicating as Jack was, getting addicted wasn’t the answer.

“David, maybe go somewhere quieter?” Sarah suggested, aware they were getting a few strange looks. When her brother didn’t move she rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs until he shook himself out of his reverie and followed her suggestion, grabbing Jack’s arm and tugging him over to the – mercifully empty – gym.

With the rest of the world shut out, Davey crumpled. He slumped against the wall and flinched away when Jack reached out to touch him.

“No, Jack,” he ordered weakly. “This can’t happen.”

“Why not?” Jack asked, confused. “You… Last night you seemed to want it.”

Davey groaned. Why wasn’t this easier? He was so close to giving up everything to just kiss Jack once, even if that had disastrous consequences after he died. He almost didn’t care. What if he did it just the one time, and then repented after that? Something told him god wouldn’t be too impressed.

“ _Of course_ I want it. I just… You’re my temptation,” Davey explained, his cheeks flushed scarlet. But admitting the sin was the first step.

Jack grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased, stepping closer still and brushing his palm down Davey’s arm.

Flattening himself against the wall and refusing to let himself relax into the touch, Davey shook his head so forcefully he could feel his brain colliding with his skull.

“It is! Sarah’s is vanity, my mother’s is temper. Mine is… men,” he said with a gulp, before quietening to a whisper. “You, specifically.”

“That’s crap,” Jack snorted. Temptation didn’t have to be bad. Davey was tempting for him, too. The correct thing to do, in his opinion, was to give in to the desire. Davey had been so close to it the night before and Jack couldn’t work out what had changed.

“No, it’s not,” Davey protested. “I… Please, you need to leave me alone.”

It had to be that way around. If Jack just stayed down on the lower decks then they wouldn’t run into each other, they wouldn’t meet by accident. Davey could just move on and forget the boy who made him want to reject everything he’d ever known just for a chance at a taste of happiness.

Jack took a step back, not missing the way Davey sighed in relief when he did, and looked at him skeptically. The light inside him was gone – he looked like someone had hollowed out all of the happiness and replaced it with fear.  
“You don’t want to dance with me anymore?” he asked, trying to remind Davey of the night before. How close they’d been. How he’d smiled and laughed and felt free.

“I can’t,” Davey forced, not able to make eye contact. His voice was thick, hoarse, like it was difficult to get the words out.

 _Don’t want to. Can’t._ They were completely separate. Jack wanted plenty he couldn’t have. A free ticket to travel the world. Endless sheets of blank paper. Davey underneath him somewhere private with a locked door.  
“Not the same thing,” Jack shrugged, pushing for an honest answer.

Davey flinched. Jack was right, of course he was. He still wanted, but that didn’t make a difference. It wasn’t wrong to want, exactly, only to act on it. Technically he could think about touching Jack to his heart’s content so long as he didn’t actually do it, but that would just make him want and want more until he couldn’t help himself.

“ _Please_. I can’t do this,” he begged, just wanting the pulling sensation that told him he should be in Jack’s arms to stop.

Sensing his close proximity clearly wasn’t wanted, Jack stepped even further back and paced the gym a little bit, taking in the fancy equipment that he’d never know how to use. Couldn’t rich people just go for a walk? Why did they need terrifying looking machinery to help them exercise?

Davey watched Jack like prey watching predator. He didn’t think about how nice Jack looked in the coat he’d clearly borrowed, and how it conjured up memories of that tuxedo. He didn’t consider how good Jack might look out of that coat, and his shirt and his suspenders. Absolutely not…

“So you want to be a rabbi?” Jack asked, raising a voice a little so Davey would snap out of whatever trance he was in and hear him.

That wasn’t a question Davey could answer honestly. Because no, he didn’t. He wanted Jack. He wanted not to want Jack. He wanted not to have to not want Jack. It was all too confusing.  
“I need to do what’s best for me. For my family,” he mumbled.  
“What about me?”

Davey flinched again. He hadn’t really considered Jack having feelings for him but, from the pain in the dark eyes staring at him, he did.  
“If you’re that happy to give in to it all then I can’t help you,” Davey forced himself to say.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d never let religion dictate his life and it wasn’t something he planned to start doing anytime soon. Either god could accept that he liked sleeping with men as much as with women, maybe even a little more, or god could shut up and deal with being ignored. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop accepting invitations into other guys’ beds. Unless Davey was planning on extending one – then he’d happily refuse everyone else

“I am. Happy, that is,” he shrugged, completely honest. “You could be too, Davey.” He made sure to say the name like it was a caress.

Another temptation. But Davey couldn’t be sure that Jack would lead to anything but pain and societal condemnation and eternal damnation.  
“Not like this,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Leave me alone. We can’t talk anymore; you should probably stay in Steerage.”

The words were like a punch to Jack’s gut and he stared openly in shock. Davey took the silence and used it to his advantage, holding the door open and standing aside so Jack could leave – which he did. He didn’t know what else to do.

Davey watched Jack walk away down the deck, holding onto the doorframe to keep his knees from buckling.

“Goodbye, Jack,” he said, knowing the words were lost to all but the wind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Davey let himself cry. This didn’t feel like the right decision at all. How was this much pain meant to lead to happiness? He felt like he’d set himself on fire from the inside – but it wasn’t the warm, pleasurable fire that Jack seemed to know how to set. It was blistering and leaving only ashes in its path. When Sarah ran over to him to see what was wrong, that was what it felt like. He was only ashes.


	12. Chapter 12

Sarah nudged Davey back into the gym and shut the door behind them. Whatever this was, he definitely didn’t need an audience of rich people judging him.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” she asked, guiding Davey into a chair as he tried to get himself under control. “Do I need to go kill that boy of yours for making you cry?”

She forced a laugh, trying to lighten the situation, but she couldn’t help but be concerned. Not even after what happened with Albert had she seen her brother quite this low.

Davey winced. Jack wasn’t his; Jack was never going to be his.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t talk about him,” he mumbled, squeezing words out past the lump in his throat.

“You seemed plenty happy to talk about him before…” Sarah blinked, confused. Where was the blushing boy who smiled whenever Jack’s name was mentioned, and why had he left so suddenly?

Pulling his feet up onto the chair so he could hug his knees, not caring about how childish he looked, Davey hid his face. The tears had mostly stopped but he felt like he could fall apart again at any second. He was physically holding himself together because doing it mentally was just too hard. It wasn’t only Jack he’d given up, it was being happy.  
“Just… Never mention him again. Ever. _Please_ ,” he begged, his words muffled by the fabric of his trousers. He’d decided not to give in to his temptation, but that didn’t mean it was ever going to go away. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t reminded of it day after day. _That boy I could have kissed. That boy who held me whilst we danced. That boy with the smile._

Sarah still didn’t get it. “David, what’s the problem?” she asked, needing him to be clear. She couldn’t fix it if she didn’t know what was wrong.  
“I want him,” Davey said, in a voice awfully close to a wail. He was acknowledging it – that was a good thing, right? Unfortunately that didn’t just make it go away.  
“I think he’s made it perfectly clear that that isn’t a problem,” Sarah teased, ruffling her younger brother’s hair.

Davey batted her hand away and scowled.  
“It’s wrong, Sarah. I shouldn’t… It’s a sin and I have to stop,” he recited. At this rate he was going to have to sit there night after night and repeat the words to himself until he started to believe them, _really_ believe them, instead of just knowing he should.

Taking a shocked step back, Sarah stared. There was something in Davey’s voice that made her realise he was serious this time. The part of him that had been thrilled to be spending time with Jack had been locked away somewhere.

‘What did Mama say to you?” she asked, horrified. She’d been hoping he would be stronger, more able to resist the nonsense their parents were trying to fill his head with.

“She was right,” Davey sighed.  
“No,” Sarah insisted. “Not if it makes you feel like this.”

Davey shuffled awkwardly, aware that he looked pathetic. He was curled up like a child with tear tracks down his face and shaking hands.

“I need to move on,” he said, in spite of it all. Even if he was certain Jack would be able to still his hands, tease his limbs to un-tense and uncurl, and kiss away the tear stains, that didn’t mean he was allowed to let him.

Sarah rolled her eyes. Davey had not thought this through. She dragged over another chair and sat opposite him, facing him on his level. If nothing else was going to work, reason usually got through to him.

“Okay, so you move on from Jack – who has made you smile like I’ve never seen before, by the way,” she added, ignoring the scowl she got for her troubles, “but what then? You’re going to marry a woman?”  
“Yes,” Davey agreed, swallowing back a grimace. He’d never love a woman, he knew that, but he could still marry one if he had to. And he did have to.  
“I’d believe you far more easily if you weren’t gritting your teeth,” Sarah smiled, leaning back and folding her arms.  
“I could marry a woman,” Davey argued. “I _should_. You know I have to if I become a rabbi.” He was supposed to set an example, _go forth and multiply_ and all. He shuddered. Sex was going to come into it as well, wasn’t it? He didn’t want that. Girls were fine, nice even, but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep with one.

“And be miserable?” Sarah asked, catching the horror in Davey’s eyes when he realised exactly what life he was resigning himself to.  
“I won’t be miserable,” he lied.  
Sarah just scoffed. “You’re miserable now. That’s not going to change.”

The truth hurt. Davey couldn’t listen to it anymore. Climbing shakily to his feet, he took a step towards the door. He was already fighting his desire to go and find Jack and just kiss him already, he didn’t need his sister to help try to convince him.  
“Sarah, I can’t do this. This whole thing never happened, okay?” he pleaded, before heading out the door. He just needed to be somewhere else.

***

Davey couldn’t face a room of smoke and testosterone and talking about how much money everyone had, so he endured the jibes from his father about staying with the women and refused to move from his seat after dinner that evening. He’d take Sarah giving him sympathetic glances every two minutes over cigars and brandy in the smoking room.

It wasn’t easy to endure his mother making pointed comments about _how much progress Davey has made just on the journey_ and _how religion has really saved him_. It only got worse when she started talking about starting to find him a good Jewish wife once they were settled in America. She was saying it like a good thing, as opposed to a waking nightmare that was going to last the rest of his life. He glanced around the room in an attempt to find somewhere to direct his attention so he could better zone out as Esther planned his future. His gaze settled on a couple, sat over by the window. He’d never been introduced to them before so they probably weren’t insane levels of rich, but they looked happy. She was smiling and leaning in like she wanted to hear more of whatever story he was telling her, and he was holding her hand, twining their fingers together. They seemed to glow, like they were actually in love, and Davey wanted that. When the man leaned in and kissed the woman’s cheek, he smiled sadly.

“You could have that,” Sarah whispered, having noticed where Davey had been looking. He knew she didn’t mean with a woman.

Davey was trying not to sob. His leg was bouncing up and down fast, a tic he’d never had before, and he was desperate to leave. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore – not his mother, not his religion. He wanted to be as happy as the couple across the room and the only person who had ever made him feel like he could glow like that was on the ship, just a few decks away. He couldn’t stay put anymore.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, climbing to his feet and interrupting whatever conversation had been going on.

“David?” Esther asked, shocked at his audacity.

Every woman around the table was blinking in surprise, except two. Medda and Sarah shared a smile. He got a wink from Medda and an encouraging smile from his sister, and that was all the support he needed.

“I have to go,” he said, giving no further explanation.

***

Getting out of the dining room had been the biggest task as far as emotional strength went, but finding Jack in the biggest ship ever built rated higher for statistical impossibility. The only time he’d been out of the First Class levels had been when Jack was holding his hand and showing him the right way round every corner. It was far more convoluted when he was trying to retrace the steps alone, and he’d been too distracted by the whole hand holding thing the first time around to remember the route well. There were hardly signs saying **Steerage this way** from the upper decks.

It took him about an hour to wind his way through the ship until he was in the right place. When he walked into the dining room he’d danced in only the night before, he’d been hoping to find Jack sat there ready to take him to that somewhere quieter that had been offered. His heart felt like it was in his throat and his stomach and his fingertips all at the same time, the pulses echoing round his head in a nervous, exhilarated mess.

Only Jack wasn’t there.

“You lost?” a voice asked, and Davey turned to find the Irish man he recognised from the party.  
“I… I’m looking for-” Davey stammered, not realising how discombobulated he was until he had to try and connect his tongue to his brain. Thankfully the man clicked his fingers in recognition as soon as he realised who the smartly dressed man from First Class was.

“You’re Jack’s friend, right? From last night,” he asked.

“Yes,” Davey said, relieved. “Can you tell me where I can find him?”

The Irish man narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to hurt him again?”

Davey froze. Evidently realising where they’d met before also linked Davey to some things Jack had said about him. Averting the man’s eyes, Davey shook his head. He didn’t want to hurt Jack ever again.

After appraising him for a couple of seconds, Davey seemed to have passed some kind of test.  
“He’s moping up on the front deck,” the man allowed.  
“And how do I-?” Davey began.

Rolling his eyes, the man started pointing out the directions and pitying the poor little rich boy who knew nothing about the real world. Davey pitied himself a little too.

***

Jack’s Irish friend had been telling the truth. Davey walked out onto the deck and found Jack staring out into the sunset, resting his forearms on the railings. He was alone. Davey wanted to be at a stage where he could walk up and wrap his arms around him, but that wasn’t how it worked. Not yet, anyway.

“Jack?” he said, tentatively, unsure if he was welcome. When Jack turned around with wide eyes, he just shrugged awkwardly. “They told me I’d find you here.”

“What do you want?” Jack asked. He had no idea what he was meant to be feeling. He was hurt but he knew Davey wasn’t exactly without his own demons, mother-shaped demons, so he was torn between ignoring him and pulling him into a hug.  
“I changed my mind,” Davey explained, but he knew that wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry. For what I said.” Once he started talking, he found he couldn’t stop. Soon he was pacing the deck and talking aimlessly. “I’m… This is new for me and I’m rejecting everything I’ve ever known. I reacted badly. It’s difficult to want you but… I want to want you. I want to be comfortable wanting you. Can we… Do you want to try? I know it’s asking a lot because I’m a mess really and maybe that’s not fair on you, exactly, but I really, _really_ want to kiss you right now. I want to kiss you a lot and I don’t care what my family has to say about it – well maybe Sarah but she likes you so that’s fine, and Les but I have a feeling he’d adore you – and I don’t care what god says about it because I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life doing anything else, so I just really need-”

Jack had heard enough.

“Dave?” he said, a grin on his face.

“Yes?” Davey asked, hopeful. The new nickname was a good sign, right? It had to be.

“Shut up,” Jack requested kindly.

He crossed the deck and took both of Davey’s hands, squeezing them gently.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, grinning.

Davey did as he was asked, trying to stop his heart from beating out of its chest. It felt like too long since he’d been kissed, and he desperately wanted it. But the last time he’d been kissed it hadn’t exactly gone well. This was going to be different, he could tell. This time he was going to be happy.

Except Jack didn’t kiss him. Instead he found himself being led across the deck. Confused but intrigued, he kept his eyes closed and carefully moved his feet forward. Then Jack stopped and moved behind him, bringing their hands up to rest them on the railing. It was like being in Jack’s arms again and Davey relaxed. It wasn’t quite dancing, but in a way it was better. This was touching for the sake of touching, just because they both wanted it.

“Climb up on the railin',” Jack mumbled in his ear. When Davey paused for a moment, he chuckled. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” Davey breathed, because he really did. So he did as Jack had asked and slowly climbed up, thankful when Jack’s hands went to his waist to keep him steady.

“Okay, one more step,” Jack encouraged, and Davey climbed up even higher. Then he took Davey’s hands again and guided them until his arms were outstretched. “Now open your eyes.”

Davey did and he couldn’t help a gasp. All that was in front of him was ocean and it was easy to forget that he was grounded on a ship. The wind was rushing over his face and Jack’s hands were back at his waist, holding him tight and keeping him safe.

“Jack,” Davey whispered. “I’m flying, Jack.”

“You’re free,” he smiled.

He slowly let go of Davey’s waist, making sure he was okay with it, and traced down his arms to take Davey’s hands. He couldn’t help but play with Davey’s fingers and, from the soft smile on his face, Davey didn’t mind. He brushed his fingertips over Davey’s palms and drew random shapes against over the back of his hand. Eventually Jack just wanted to hold him again, bringing both of their hands down to wrap them around Davey’s waist and finally tracing the tailoring of his suit there. He wanted to follow the seams down, but this wasn’t the place.

Davey couldn’t not kiss him anymore. He turned his head, finding Jack’s lips with his and not caring that they were technically in a public place and anyone could see them. It was worth it. Jack kissed him back, smiling through it all and brushing the back of his knuckles against Davey’s jaw. Davey wanted to reciprocate but they really weren’t at the best angle for kissing. Compromising with himself, he buried his fingers in Jack’s hair and pulled him even closer. And he never wanted to let him go.


	13. Chapter 13

Eventually turning back to kiss Jack started to give Davey a crick in his neck, and the sharp flare of pain brought some sense back to him. Whilst he had no desire to put an end to anything, they were somewhere that was incredibly public and increasingly uncomfortable. He wasn’t quite sure what would happen if another passenger or a crewmember found two men making out, but he figured it wasn’t worth the risk of finding out. Not when there was a far more attractive alternative.

Pushing Jack away just a little so he had space to climb down from the railings, Davey turned to face him.

“Come with me,” he requested, surprising himself with his confidence - he didn’t even have to phrase it as a question.  
“Anywhere,” Jack breathed, wrapping his arms back around Davey’s waist to pull him close for another kiss. He was completely drunk in love with this man and he would happily follow him to the end of the earth if it meant he got to kiss him and keep making him smile.

Davey grinned, giving in to the kiss in the knowledge that they were probably going to have to go without for a few minutes whilst they navigated their way through the ship.

“Somewhere with a door that locks,” he clarified, with an innocent smile – though he felt anything but.

Staring at him for a long moment, Jack tilted his head and tried to work out what Davey was insinuating. There was a lot they could do it a locked room, but there had to be a line somewhere and the sooner he knew where it was, the sooner he could manage his expectations. Still, anything Davey wanted to do was going to be worth it, so Jack nodded and let himself be led across the deck.

They dropped each other’s hand as soon as they heard voices, knowing that they were going to draw far less attention if they weren’t visibly together. Everything passed in a blur to Jack and he was glad Davey knew where they were going or he’d never remember the way from that morning. He was itching to grab Davey’s hand again or to push him against the nearest wall with a kiss but that wasn’t going to help them in their attempt to be subtle. Davey was giddy with the knowledge of what he’d just done and what he was going to be doing, and he was almost surprised he could still remember his way around.

As soon as they got to the corridor that the cabins were off, Jack couldn’t help himself anymore. There was no one in sight so, taking the risk, he pulled Davey in for a brief kiss, catching him by surprise. Davey just blinked, a little taken aback, but not about to complain. There was a thrill that came with kissing Jack in public, he was fast learning, a shot of adrenaline to go with the rush of dopamine that kicked in. It felt like he’d downed a glass of wine too fast. Now he’d started kissing Jack, he was certain he’d never be able to stop.

Wanting to return the affection but knowing his room was only metres away, Davey took Jack’s hand and pulled him down the corridor. He scrabbled in his pocket for the key, smiling when Jack’s hands found his waist again, and ungracefully fumbled with the lock mechanism until the door swung open. Once they were both inside he locked the door and left the key there so it couldn’t be unlocked from the other side. That click was the best sound he’d ever heard: no one was walking in on him this time.

When he turned around, Jack was watching him. He didn’t give a second thought to the opulent surroundings, he just couldn’t look away from the poor little rich boy who had turned his life upside down. Davey knew he was blushing – he couldn’t help it. Jack’s eyes were so honest and so open, and no one had ever looked at him like he was worth so much. Albert had been confusion and experiment and a little pent-up desire, but Jack? Jack was everything. Davey wasn’t confused anymore.

He crossed the room, snagging Jack’s hand as he passed, and sat down on the couch, pulling Jack down beside him.

“What – uh, what do you want?” Jack asked roughly, needing to clear his voice halfway through.

“Make me feel everything they say I shouldn’t,” Davey said. He didn’t need to elaborate, Jack got it.

Gently, Jack reached up and cupped Davey’s jaw, tracing over his cheek with his thumb. Then he replaced his palm with his lips, kissing a trail and shifting so his knees were up on the sofa and Davey’s weight was resting back against the cushions.

Kissing Davey was an experience. Jack started slow, hands tracing gentle shapes and lips barely brushing – because Davey was new to all this and he was trying to be respectful and courteous. Only then Davey would kiss back and bite at Jack’s bottom lip, and he managed to forget Davey hadn’t really done this before and things got rougher and deeper and hotter. Until Davey whimpered or gasped when Jack trailed a hand up his inner thigh or tugged too sharply on his hair, and then Jack would remember who he was kissing and he’d slow things back down again, only for Davey to pull him closer, or guide his hand back to his thigh, and so the cycle repeated itself again and again. Jack was getting dizzy, and he needed a break for a moment.

“Still think I’m bad for ya?” he teased, leaning away to withhold another kiss until he got an answer.

Davey hummed for a long moment, unsure exactly what he believed now.  
“For my productivity and general sanity? Yes. For my public image and my relationship with my parents? Yes. For my soul?” he paused for dramatic effect, trying to maintain a blank face. He managed a couple of seconds before slipping into a smile. “You’ll do just fine.”

Jack grinned and leant down for another kiss, only to be stopped when Davey reached up a hand. He figured this was it. Davey had realised he’d had enough and was going to kick him out. He was biting his lip and looking guilty, so Jack figured it had to be that. Sighing and moving away, Jack resigned himself to grabbing his stuff and going back down to Steerage. But then Davey grabbed his suspenders and stopped him going too far.

"Draw me. Like that boy,” he said, all in one breath like he was almost afraid of it.

He didn’t necessarily just want to be another one of the men in Jack’s sketchbook, just a face that Jack wouldn’t be able to put a name to in a year or so, but he wanted there to be something tangible to mark this. If they got to America and parted ways forever, he wanted to know that somewhere there was drawing of him that proved this all really happened.

Jack smirked, relaxing again. He knew exactly what boy, what sketch, Davey was referring to, but that wasn’t how it worked. To get a drawing like that, he needed the subject to be sated and drowsy and boneless.

"I'd hafta sleep with ya first,” he shrugged, certain it wasn’t going to happen.

"Yes,” Davey said, immediately.

Well, that changed things. Jack stared at him, shocked. Surely he wasn’t actually agreeing to the half-hearted proposition.

"Davey...?" he trailed off, laughing shakily. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He’d slept with plenty of people, but it had never felt as important as this.

"Yes,” Davey repeated, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking and his cheeks were the reddest it was possible for them to be.

"You're gonna to be the death of me,” Jack managed, completely thrown.

"Come here,” Davey smiled, climbing off the sofa and leading Jack through to his bedroom. Jack followed willingly, like he knew he always would.

Climbing back onto the bed without breaking eye contact, Davey stripped off his bowtie and waistcoat and undid the first couple of buttons of his shirt so Jack knew this was all okay. He was still in his clothes from dinner so it felt like there were far too many layers to take off, even if he had left his tailcoat behind at the table when he’d ran. Jack was happy to take over, finishing off the buttons and untucking Davey’s vest so he could splay his fingers out over his stomach and watch his breath hitch at the contact.

“Okay?” he whispered, needing to be sure.

Davey just nodded, reaching out to pull Jack’s suspenders down over his arms and frantically fiddling with the buttons on Jack’s tattered shirt. Laughing, Jack just pulled it over his head still half buttoned and tossed it to the side. He was still in a worn vest of his own but it was clearly the most undressed Davey had ever seen another man, from the way he wasn’t quite sure where to look.

“I… I don’t know how to…” Davey waved his hands vaguely, a little flustered.

“That’s alright. We can do this one step at a time?” Jack promised, kissing Davey gently when he got an enthusiastic nod in return. “You got any kinda oil?” he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

Davey blinked, convinced he’d heard wrong. “What for?”  
“So’s I can cook with it,” Jack teased gently, bopping Davey on the nose and rolling his eyes. “What’d’ya think it’s for.”  
“Oh!” Davey gasped, as soon as it occurred to him. His face suddenly caught fire, warmth rushing to his cheeks to turn them scarlet. They needed something so they could do _that._ He couldn’t think in greater specifics – he was afraid he might get too lightheaded if he tried. Besides, he wasn’t even quite sure how everything worked. “No,” he said, a little disappointed. Oil hadn’t been something he ever thought he’d need, so there went his chance to get his drawing added to Jack’s collection of sketches.

Smiling fondly at the forlorn expression on Davey’s face, Jack pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“That’s okay, there are plenty other ways for me to make ya feel good,” he promised, with every intention of making good on his word. He returned his hands to the bare skin under Davey’s vest and pushed upwards, planning on getting rid of all the remaining layers of clothing between them. Davey had no objections, not anymore.

***

They lay breathing in sync on the bed afterwards, neither wanting to break the comfortable silence first. Jack had no reservations about being naked, lying on top of the sheets and tracing Davey’s cheekbones with this thumb. Davey was shyer, tucking himself under the bedding and hiding just a little. But he couldn’t help but reach out and run his fingers gently along the curve of Jack’s back, up and down with such a fleeting touch that it almost felt ticklish.

“ _I celebrate myself, and sing myself / And what I assume you shall assume / For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you_ ,” Davey recited, sleepy and content and finally understanding half of what he’d read about love.

“Come again?” Jack laughed, more than a little confused.

“It’s poetry. Whitman. He… he liked men,” Davey explained. “So they say, at least.”

“This kind of likin’ men?” Jack asked, gesturing down in acknowledgment of what they’d just done and smiling when Davey blushed and nodded.

Jack went quiet after that, still stroking over Davey’s cheekbone and just watching him fondly. Davey watched as his gaze turned from relaxed and loving to slightly more measuring. Just as he started to get worried, Jack rolled away. Reaching out to grab his arm, Davey whined in protest. He didn’t want this to ever end. If it did then he had to face his parents, and the longer he could put that off, the better.

Jack laughed, taking Davey’s hand from his arm and kissing the back of it like he’d done on the staircase. He reached down and pulled on his drawers.

“You wanted me to draw ya, remember? I gotta move for that,” he explained.

Davey pouted but Jack refused to be encouraged back to bed by those gorgeous blue eyes until he’d collected his sketching supplies from the sitting room. When he climbed back onto the bed with the paper and charcoal in hand he considered slipping back out of the underwear, but chances were Davey was going to be more comfortable if he kept them on.

Davey watched as Jack made sure the tip of his stick of charcoal was sharp enough and found an empty page in his sketchbook. He remembered that original drawing, the way it was scandalously indecent without actually showing anything, and he gingerly pushed down the bed sheet until it was bunched around his hips. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

“This okay?” he asked, his mouth dry.

“Perfect,” Jack nodded, staring. He didn’t just mean for the sketch.

Shaking himself out of his fixation, Jack started to trace out the outlines for the drawing, lightly shading the parts he knew he wanted to be in shadow. Davey tried to bear Jack’s eyes on him, so intently focused on the planes of his body, but eventually he started to shuffle uncomfortably. Sensing he needed a little encouragement, Jack pulled himself away from the sketch.

“Hey, hey, no. You ain’t gotta get embarrassed. You're pretty, Dave. Real pretty,” he said, and he meant it.

Blushing and wishing he could pull the sheet right over his head and hide, Davey mumbled something that sounded vaguely like _thank you_ and resolutely stared a hole into the wall behind Jack’s head.

“Look at me,” Jack coaxed, wanting to capture that expression in Davey’s eyes.

So Davey did, and he found that Artist Jack had given way to the Jack who had made him feel like the world had stopped turning, just for a second, and that was all he needed to take a deep breath and relax back against the bed, holding still so Jack could finish the drawing. It might have been held in the same sketchbook as the picture of the stranger Jack had slept with before, but Davey was pretty sure this was different. Jack was going to remember his name.


	14. Chapter 14

“Here, now it’s official,” Jack grandly proclaimed, signing his name roughly at the bottom of the sketch and adding the date beside it.

It was a drawing he could look at forever, if he did say so himself. Davey was gorgeous and even if he’d only managed to capture maybe half of that on the paper, it was still breathtaking. The one thing missing was those beautiful blue eyes. Jack was going to have to paint Davey at some point – he was already imagining just how long it would take to mix the perfect shade.

Leaning forward to give Davey a gentle kiss, Jack smiled fondly when he pulled the bed sheet back up over his chest. He had nothing to be self-conscious about but if being more covered up made Davey comfortable then that was something Jack could respect. He lifted up the opposite corner of the sheet so he could wriggle underneath too, and handed the paper over.  
“You don’t want to keep it?” Davey asked, confused. It was a wonderful drawing and he felt a little disappointed that Jack didn’t want to add it to the collection in his sketchbook. Was he not proud of it? Or did he not want the memory?  
“Why don’t ya look after it for me?” Jack hummed, unsure what else to say. But Davey was looking at him sadly and he had to at least try an explanation. “I want ya to have somethin’ to remember this night by. Somethin’ real.”

Blinking, Davey frowned. “Where are you planning on going?”  
“Davey, we both know…” Jack sighed. This was a great fantasy-come-true, probably for both of them. But the heir to a fortune didn’t end up with the painter with nothing, not even in his dreams. “What are ya gonna do when this ship docks, huh? Do ya even know?”  
“Come with you,” Davey answered without a beat. He sure wasn’t going to be dedicating his live completely to Judaism and becoming a rabbi, wife and all. God would understand – he’d given him these feelings for men after all.

Jack pretended that was going to work for all of thirty seconds. He tucked Davey’s hair behind his ear and brushed the back of his knuckles against his bare cheek.  
“Dave…” he tried, attempting to be the sensible one.

Davey wasn’t going to listen. He just wanted to be unreasonable for a while. Turning away, he pushed down the burgeoning desire to cry.  
“Let’s not... Look, we’ve still got a couple of days. Please, I… I can’t think about this now,” he begged.

Jack never wanted to make Davey cry, and it was so tempting to end the conversation there and kiss a smile back to his lips. But that wasn’t how real life worked. It wasn’t just a case of what happened when they were on US soil.  
“Do you even know what yous gonna do tomorrow, Davey? Or as soon as we walk outta this room? Because I ain’t pretendin’ to know ya mother well or anythin’, but I… Well, she ain’t gonna be happy…” Jack winced, trailing off. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Esther’s rage unless absolutely necessary.

Davey groaned and pulled the sheet over his head. He didn’t want to deal with the reality of his decisions, but nothing changed what he’d chosen. Rejecting and ignoring his feelings just weren’t an option, even if that meant cutting ties with his family entirely.  
“Can I stay with you?” he asked, his voice muffled by the bedding.  
“What?” Jack laughed, rolling closer and tugging the sheet down so he could see those eyes.  
“Down in Third Class, can I stay with you?” Davey repeated. “I might not be welcome up here anymore.”

The room seemed to get several degrees colder with the possibility of his abandonment out there in the open. Jack shivered and threw an arm over Davey’s waist to pull him closer. Conserving body heat and all.

“I…” Jack sighed, unsure. He was sharing a room with three other guys and whilst they seemed nice that didn’t mean they weren’t going to be potentially wildly homophobic if he brought a guy back to share his bed. But he wasn’t about to leave Davey somewhere he could get hurt. “Yeah, I’ll find a way. I just want you safe.”

“I just want you,” Davey replied, unabashed.

Jack grinned, mumbled “ _you have me_ ” against Davey’s temple and shuffled so he could kiss him back against the pillow.

Davey could tell that he wasn’t going to be getting anything done whilst he had Jack between his sheets.

***

It was another hour before they finally climbed out of bed. Sensing that Davey would be far more at ease dressing alone in his own space, Jack excused himself to the sitting room with a kiss and smile to start poking around at all the luxuries a First Class ticket got you on the largest ship in the world.

As soon as he was by himself Davey couldn’t help but grin uncontrollably, dragging a pillow over his face to hide some of the embarrassing euphoria that he had to express somehow before it killed him. When he dropped his hands back down he brushed against the edge of the sketch and he sat up so he could look at it properly. He liked the way he looked, not quite able to believe that this was the way Jack saw him. But he wanted to protect the drawing, like it was a little window into something that was just theirs. The safe in the corner of his room came to mind and he crossed the carpet to twist the dial to the combination, Sarah’s birthday, and carefully slid the piece of paper in. His parents wouldn’t be able to open it and Sarah wouldn’t dare to invade his privacy like that. It was safe.

Clothes had to come next. Davey started pulling out shirt after shirt, trying to find one that he wanted to put on. He stared at the pile of clothes he’d created on his bed, suddenly hating them all. He didn’t want to dress in layer after layer, buttoned up to his neck and everything tucked in. The thought of pulling a starched shirt back on made him wrinkle his nose. It was the uniform of a rank he was self-demoting himself from. He didn’t want to be Rich Boy anymore.

Jack’s faded blue shirt, wrinkled and worn thin at the elbows and hem, caught his eye from where it had been haphazardly thrown earlier, still half-buttoned. Picking it up, Davey pulled it over his head and tugged the fabric to his nose to inhale deeply. There was a lingering smell of wool, and a little of cigarette smoke. Mainly Jack, though. A scent Davey was new to but quickly falling in love with; it was hard not to already connect it with safety.

Tucking the shirt in, Davey relaxed into it. This felt better already - more comfortable. It didn’t exactly go with his trousers, but he wasn’t going to take it off. He was watching himself in the mirror, brushing his fingers through his hair to tame it into something that resembled submission, when Jack walked in.

Finding Davey in his clothes sent a shot of pleasure up Jack’s spine. It was a web of emotions - some of it was possessive, but most of it was devotion.

“Cute, but what am I gonna wear?” he smiled, walking up behind Davey and putting his hands on his hips, tracing small circles. He was never going to get tired of touching this man.

“Take your pick,” Davey suggested, gesturing towards the clothes he’d discarded in an attempt to find something that felt right.

Jack let out a low whistle. Those clothes were expensive, far warmer and far better made than anything he’d ever owned. He had no idea why Davey would opt for his old shirt over this selection.

“Serious?” he asked.

When Davey just shrugged, Jack sifted through the pile of clothes on the bed to find a simple white shirt, a little loose and something that was perhaps a little older that some of the others. It felt lived in, soft, like it was one of Davey’s favourites out of the pile of almost identical white shirts. But Davey grinned when he picked it up, and Jack was convinced that he’d somehow picked correctly. Shrugging the shirt on and doing up half the buttons over his pale striped vest, he held his arms out and turned a slow circle for Davey’s amusement and approval.

“Cute,” Davey echoed, his hands going to Jack’s waist to pull him close. He kissed him softly and was just considering taking steps to relieve Jack of his clothes entirely again when a knock sounded at the door.

Dropping his hands like he’d already been caught, Davey span around and took several large steps further away from the door. He’d been gone long enough for people to start looking for him, he knew that. He’d locked the door, but he wasn’t invincible. It was just wood.

“Mr Jacobs,” a voice sounded, unmistakably Snyder. “Your parents thought it best I check up on you.”

Davey stifled a growl of despair. _Check up_. That was bullshit. They wanted to make sure he wasn’t with Jack, make sure he was never with Jack. And he wouldn’t accept it. Jack was looking at him, clearly waiting for him to make a decision on what to do next. His first thought was to stay put; they were on the safest side of a locked door and Snyder wasn’t about to break it down when anyone could see. That was going to cause even more problems.

The sound of a key in the lock sounded, and Davey held his breath, reaching for Jack’s hand. But the key he’d left in his side stayed soundly in place, refusing to budge. This was working. He let the breath go, relaxing a little. Only then footsteps echoed down the hall, and Davey knew Snyder wasn’t just giving up. He thought it through, fast as he could manage.

His room connected to Sarah’s.

It hadn’t been a problem. He’d known she was at dinner, and she’d never walk into his room without knocking when she had an inkling Jack was in there with him. They’d been respecting each other’s privacy as it was, let alone when potential lovers were added to the mix. But it meant he hadn’t thought to lock Sarah’s door.

“We have to go,” he insisted, pulling a confused Jack with him as he unlocked the door and hurried them both out into the hall.

“My drawings!” Jack whined, hating to leave them behind. But he followed Davey without a question, because that was what trust was.

Forcing himself to walk slowly and normally, and silently praying Jack would follow beside him, Davey headed away from his rooms. He had no end destination in mind, but it was clear he couldn’t be caught. Not in his room alone with Jack. Not with the bedsheets tangled and such a revealing a drawing of himself in the safe. The realisation that the picture had been left behind was a pang in his heart, but turning around wasn’t an option. Snyder could have them both arrested the second they set foot on American soil. He wasn’t sure what the laws were at sea about what he and Jack had done, but it was pretty clear on land. They were technically criminals, and he didn’t have a way out of that. But he didn’t plan on stopping either. He knew his parents would rather see him in jail then happy with a man.

“Hey!” a voice yelled behind them, and Davey immediately knew that blending in wasn’t going to work.

“Go!” he shouted, taking off as soon as he was certain Jack would follow. Even as he ran down the corridors, dodging round unsuspecting passengers with Jack at his side, Davey was grinning. This felt like living, finally.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack was faster on his feet than Davey was, something that didn’t come as a surprise considering Davey spent most of his time at home, when he wasn’t being taken across the sea on the largest ship in the world to face what was essentially a life of servitude to a religion he wasn’t even sure he entirely agreed with, and Jack had a life that often involved stealing food to survive. There was an awful lot of running involved with that kind of life and, considering Jack couldn’t bring himself to leave any person he ran into on the streets without something to eat, he stole a lot more food than he needed for just himself. But it meant he was used to running, so grabbing Davey’s arm – ideally he’d have taken his hand, but that was only going to get them more unwanted attention – and weaving through the ship felt like second nature.

Navigating the First Class decks wasn’t the easiest thing Davey had ever done. There were lots of people and lots of dead ends and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen if Snyder caught up with them, but he really didn’t want to find out. Despite the fact he’d been up on these decks since day one, his sense of the layout was about as decent as Jack’s and the first thing that came to mind was _get far away_ , so aimlessly running it was.

“Wanna head by the kitchens, pick up some oil?” Jack asked teasingly, barely even missing a breath as he ran.

A week ago Davey would have made a strangled noise and run in the opposite direction; a day ago his cheeks would have turned pink and he’d have stammered out something unintelligible. But that was the Davey from the past, and present Davey was through with that guy. So instead he just bit back a laugh of surprise, and poked Jack in the ribs as a mock reprimand. He was never going to be able to look at oil the same way, not now he was aware of exactly what it could be used for.

“Run now, we’ll talk about _that_ later,” he hissed, turning a little red. Okay, so maybe the old Davey still lingered a little. He was going to blame it on the impromptu exercise.

“You gotta call it somethin’ eventually, Dave,” Jack laughed, keeping his voice low.

“It can wait,” Davey said sternly, pulling on Jack’s arm to get him to keep moving. Snyder was still right behind them.

He didn’t want to think about words. Words hurt, despite what everyone said, and they had power over him far more than someone threating to hit him might. The concept of putting a name to things he was barely comfortable doing was too frightening to consider. And then there was the concept of finding a name for what he was now. _Faggot. Fairy. Homosexual. Poof. Nance. Ponce._ He didn’t like any of them. They were almost all pure insults and the ones that weren’t still tasted bitter in his mouth. He wasn’t different, why did there even have to be a word for it? He was still just human. Kissing Jack was enough, sleeping with Jack was enough – he didn’t have to name what he felt to know he was feeling it. Besides, this wasn’t the time to think. This was the time to run.

When they’d barreled through into the foyer, Davey looked around. Everyone on the staircase was staring at them and he managed a laugh and a wave, feeling more reckless than he ever had in his life. Just when he was about to pick a corridor, one of the elevators reached A Deck and Davey pulled Jack into it with him as soon as the previous person had gotten out, tugging the grill shut.

“Down! Go, go, go!” he pleaded to a particularly confused lift operator, breathing a sigh of relief when he listened.

Snyder reached the lift just as it started to descend and, as Jack waved merrily, Davey couldn’t help but stick his middle finger up, biting back a laugh. Jack grinned at him, almost proud. This Davey was a far cry from the shy, suppressed, frightened Davey he’d talked down from the back of the ship.

It was easy to feel like they were free when Snyder couldn’t get to them but even as Jack took the time to catch his breath he saw the man head towards the stairs. This wasn’t over. He was hoping they’d at least have the upper hand if they went down a few levels to somewhere he was familiar with and Snyder wasn’t. The lifts didn’t go any further than E Deck so they tumbled down, both yelling back a thank you to the befuddled lift operator, and raced round the corner and down another flight of stairs and though a swing door until they finally reached a part of the ship where Jack felt more comfortable.

They were laughing more than they should have been but the rush of the chase wasn’t lost on either of them, and Davey was glad to finally be doing something that felt impulsive and a little dangerous.  

“You okay?” Jack asked, panting a little.

Davey just nodded, still trying to focus on breathing through his chaotic giggles without wheezing. Snyder hadn’t caught up with them yet but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“Your dad has pretty mean friends,” Jack added. “He’s more like a cop.”  
“I think he was,” Davey admitted, peeking up to look through the porthole window in the door at the exact wrong moment, catching sight of Snyder doing a double take and heading their way.

“Go!” he insisted, leading the way down the corridor.

Jack led the way, leading them around another corner and cursing when he found a dead end. The only option was a door to the left, and he fumbled it open and hurried them both inside before thanking fate they’d chosen a room with a lock and sliding the bolt over just in time. The sound of Snyder angrily pummeling the door was just about audible over the din they found themselves surrounded by. They’d ended up in a tiny room with no access but the door they’d just come through that now had an angry Snyder on the other side, and filled with the thumping bass of engines and a dull, constant heat.

“Now what?” Davey asked, yelling to be heard as he clamped his hands over his ears to drown out some of the noise.

“What?” Jack shouted back, unable to make out the question.

The only way out was the ladder in the corner, leading down into the depths of the ship. Ordinarily Jack would have seen it as a great adventure, but this time he wasn’t alone and he didn’t want Davey getting hurt. Still, it was that or get caught and Davey was watching him with complete trust in his eyes. The ladder seemed like their only option.

Jack went first, wanting to make sure that they weren’t climbing into anything dangerous. He could tell that they were heading for the boilers, what with the intense heat that slowly climbed up his legs as he got further down, but it was almost guaranteed to be Snyder-free and that was the pressing priority.

Jumping down to solid ground, Jack helped Davey off the end of the ladder and looked around. They’d found the boilers, alright. Mounds of coal were heaped up around them and shirtless men were shoveling coal furnaces to keep the fires stoked. Half-naked, sweaty men was usually something Jack would be inclined to stop and appreciate but it definitely wasn’t the time. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with a large guy wiping sweat from his brow.

“What are you doing here? No passengers allowed. Hey!” the firemen yelled after them once they’d shared a look and mutually agreed to bolt again.

The air was thick with coal dust and the heat was almost more intense than Davey could stand, but the adrenaline kept him running. He grabbed Jack’s hand in a fit of giddiness, not caring that the dozens of employees they passed could clearly see. They were gone in a moment anyway, and it was so worth it.

“Keep goin’, you’re doin’ a great job! Everyone appreciates it!” Jack shouted to the men they passed, and Davey couldn’t help but laugh honestly and freely. His clothes were going to end up covered in soot but he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Neither of them had a clue where they were going, but at this point it didn’t matter. They just wanted to get lost. Davey was slightly ahead, dodging out of the way of wheelbarrows and shovels and picking which turns they took through the labyrinthine alleys. When they eventually reached a large door that lead them out into the cargo hold, Davey was almost sad to leave the boilers behind. But Jack was still beside him and that alone almost promised adventure would keep on coming.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Davey could only imagine the riches held in the boxes that surrounded them. He knew the wealth of some of the individual First Class passengers was indescribable and this was their combined collection. Part of him wanted to go through the boxes, not to steal but just to see everything. The clothes, the artifacts, the paintings, the jewels. They could feed the hungry of the world for endless years with the value of it all.

It was another maze down there, the entire ship seemed to be nothing but mazes. Instead of state rooms or coal boilers, this one was crates. Jack headed towards the centre of the piles where a single car sat, silent and still in the hold. It was a damn pretty vehicle and he’d never seen one like it up close.

“1912 Renault Coupe de Ville” Jack mumbled, brushing the palm of his hand over the hubcap. It was one hell of an expensive car and he knew that the owner would probably be threating to sue him for damaging it if he knew a man from Steerage was in such close proximity to something he probably valued so highly.

Davey blinked at him, a little confused. He didn’t know much about the car itself but he had to admit it was nice – nicer than the one his father owned. It seemed a shame to just look at it.

Clearing his throat, Davey straightened his back and gestured to the door when Jack turned around, waiting for him to open it. Jack just grinned, stepping round to open the door and holding out his hand to help Davey up the step before climbing up onto the driver’s seat.

The inside of the car was just as nice as the exterior, with cushioned leather seats that Davey could definitely get used to. He lowered the glass screen that separated him from Jack and leaned forward to rest on his forearms. It was easy to forget Snyder was probably still looking for them.

“Where to, sir?” Jack asked, his smirk undermining his mock formality.   
“To the stars,” Davey breathed close to his ear, naming the first place he could think of where he was certain no one was going to judge him for being himself.

Just as Jack was about to turn around in confusion, Davey grabbed his arms and pulled him back through the window until they were both squashed into the cab. Not that either of them was complaining about being close. Jack mostly ended up on top of Davey, trying not to put too much weight on his legs at the weird angle they were bent. He hadn’t quite mentally adjusted to being so close to this man so often, but he wasn’t about to be the one who suggested they move.

Davey took Jack’s hand where it had landed on his chest to break Jack’s fall and carefully twined their fingers together, looking up to meet his eyes. This was nice. This was all he wanted for the rest of the time he got on earth. Just Jack and closeness and privacy.

Stretching up his other arm to rest it around Davey’s shoulders, Jack made the most of the close proximity. There was so much about Davey that made him a telltale rich kid – the smooth skin on his hands and the well-groomed hair, but that wasn’t what Jack cared about. He stared transfixed at the way Davey was biting his lip and only managed to pull his gaze away to trade the sight for Davey’s eyes, which were looking back at him with desire and unrestrained want. Jack shivered.

“We shouldda picked up that oil, huh,” he mumbled, laughing gently.  
“We can do the other stuff,” Davey whispered, and Jack had to gulp. This man was definitely going to be the death of him, that was certain.

Leaning forward to kiss Davey deeply, tasting desperation and lust, Jack felt a little drunk. The knowledge that he had caused those feelings was more intoxicating than all the ale he’d had on board so far, and it made him forget everything else that was happening. Davey wasn’t rich when they were making out. Men kissing wasn’t illegal when they were making out. Everything was easy and right and it made Jack never want to stop.

***

Esther was surveying Davey’s room with a cold, distant grimace on her face. Snyder had interrupted her in the dining room to inform her that Mr. Jack Kelly had once again co-opted her son’s good sense. Considering Snyder had lost track of both of the men, she’d sent him to alert the crew and further investigate the room he’d seem them lock themselves into and she’d gone to check that her son hadn’t returned to his room.

Sarah was tellingly silent at her side, refusing to speak out against her brother but not wanting to antagonize Esther and provoke her into keeping her from Davey. When Esther was about to barge into Davey’s room without knocking, she had to say something.

“Wait,” she’d insisted, stepping forward to knock just in case. Davey still deserved privacy. Not that it felt like it once they were inside.

Esther was walking around like she was at a crime scene, casting her eye over the pile of Davey’s clothes on the bed and the mess of covers. It was obvious what had happened, but she still didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to think that Davey was turned away from this temptation and hadn’t, and would never, submit to the sin. But that didn’t change the fact that Davey’s waistcoat, tie and shirt from dinner were thrown haphazardly off the side of the bed. Looking away, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, Esther turned her back. As she did the safe in the corner of the room caught her eye.

“Sarah, open that,” she ordered. There was something about it, just sitting there innocuously, that made it seem suspicious.

Sarah walked in from the sitting room, feeling awkward about the whole situation. She balked when she realised what her mother was impatiently gesturing to.

“It’s David’s,” she protested. She didn’t care what he did as long as he was happy, and he definitely didn’t think that who he did or didn’t go to bed with should dictate whether people could pry into his personal life.  
“Open it,” Esther repeated, gritting her teeth.

There was no way she was going to let this go, that much was clear, and Sarah was really hoping that the only thing in the safe would be a little money or an expensive watch, and not a note that proclaimed he was guilty of fornicating with another man. She clicked the dial on the front round to each number, before letting the door swing open. The sheet of paper slid inside caught her eye and she couldn’t help the curiosity that made her pull it out. As soon as she realised what it was, she put it back with wide eyes. That was really wasn’t something she needed to see. It wasn’t quite a note, but it was the closest thing that Davey would ever conceivably do.

“Nothing there,” Sarah lied, shutting the door of the safe and biting back a curse as Esther grabbed her arm to stop her just before she could safely press it closed.

Wanting to protect her little brother, Sarah tried to step in front of the safe but Esther practically elbowed her out of the way and grabbed the paper.                                                                   
“Oh my!” she gasped, stepping back in surprise.

“Hey, that’s private!” Sarah protested, snatching the sketch and hiding back in the safe, finally getting it closed. Davey wouldn’t want it shown around, she was sure.  
“He… With that man…” Esther said, clearly shaken. She couldn’t really deny it anymore.

Sarah wanted to explain that it wasn’t a bad thing. It made Davey happy and it was what he wanted, and that meant it was fine. But nothing was ever going to make her mother see that. Even as Esther was recovering some of her senses again after the shock, she was heading for the corridor and calling for the Master at Arms. Sarah followed her as far as the living room, collapsing down to sit on the sofa and putting her head in her hands. There was no way for this to go well and she was hoping Davey stayed as far away as possible.

***

Davey rested his head on Jack’s bare chest, breathing deeply and smiling as Jack carded his fingers through his hair. This time he wasn’t so desperate to immediately cover up. He could get used to this, even if the car wasn’t quite as comfortable as his bed.

They’d managed to steam up the windows, something that made Davey’s cheeks heat up a little, but he couldn’t help but lean up to reach the back glass pane and trace a cartoon heart in the mist. Jack snorted and pressed a kiss to the top of Davey’s head when he settled back down on his chest.

“We can’t stay here forever, sweetheart,” Jack mumbled, trying out the nickname. He didn’t hate it.

Davey looked up and pouted and it definitely tugged on Jack’s heartstrings a little, but he wasn’t going to relent. If they got caught like this, they were dead. And considering they’d managed to find their way to the cargo hold without too much trouble, they were definitely at risk of someone else following. He let them have a couple more minutes of peace together, but eventually he tickled Davey in the ribs until he shifted enough that they could collect and divide up their clothing. Jack handed his blue shirt back to Davey, smiling when he pulled it on. It brought out his eyes.

Just as he was about to tug Davey in for another kiss, they heard the loud reverberation of the hinges of a heavy door from the direction of where they’d come in to the cargo hold. Davey’s eyes went wide with fear, looking to Jack for an answer. Jack just raised a finger to his lips, begging Davey to keep silent, and carefully and quietly led them out of the car and down between the rows of crates until they were a safe distance away. They watched as the stewards, two men in white uniforms with search lights, worked their way through the hold. When they came across the car they were about to bypass it when one of the men caught sight of Davey’s doodled heart. He clicked his fingers and gestured to the other man, pointing at the car. They grinned maliciously and opened the car door, an action accompanied with an unnecessarily cocky ‘ _gotcha!’_ , clearly expecting to find two men they could detain. When all they found was an empty car seat, a look of shock passed over their faces. Jack grinned but he tapped Davey on the shoulder and gestured behind them to another door out. They’d pushed their luck enough as it was, it was time to make a quick getaway.

Four flights of stairs up they spilled out onto the mostly deserted Third Class deck space, laughing uncontrollably and fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration. Davey didn’t know how his night had gone from First Class meal with stuffy rich people, to undressing the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, to veritable fugitive on the run from his family, but he was blaming Jack for all of it.

“Did you see those guys’ faces?” Jack laughed, spinning round in circles in the cold night air and staring up to the stars.

Davey could watch him be so carefree forever, but he had to break the little bubble of nothing and nonsense. He’d decided something.

“Jack, when the ship docks, I’m getting off with you,” he said, only just loud enough for Jack to hear. He was giving it all up. His family, his money, his religion, even Sarah and Les. And he knew he was never going to regret it.

Jack stopped spinning, stepping forward in front of Davey to try and look for a hint of hesitation in his eyes, but there was nothing of the kind.  
“This is crazy,” he mumbled, but he wasn’t complaining.  
“I know,” Davey admitted with a small smile. “But I don’t like the alternative. They’re going to punish me for all this. And besides, I like the sound of Santa Fe.” He grinned when Jack looked surprised, clearly unaware he’d been paying so much attention. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s why I trust it.”

That was all Jack needed to hear. He lifted his hand to Davey’s cheek, clearly wishing he could pull him into a kiss but knowing that Davey would probably object. Only Davey, with a cursory look around to check no one was paying them any attention, pulled Jack closer and pressed their lips together recklessly. He didn’t need locked doors anymore.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Davey found it surprisingly easy to kiss Jack on the open deck, barely giving a thought to anyone who might catch them. It was almost midnight so most normal folks were tucked up in bed for the night as it was, and besides, it was fun to be a little impulsive. Jack didn’t seem to have many reservations either, kissing Davey fiercely like they hadn’t been to bed together twice in one evening already. It felt like fire and danger and scandal and Davey could definitely become accustomed to the thrill of it.

When a loud bell rang out above them, cutting through the calm night, Davey’s little daydream was shattered. That fire he’d felt suddenly started to blister and he leap back guiltily. Looking up into the darkness above the ship, Davey expected to see someone angrily pointing at them, alerting another crew member as to what they were doing. Instead he heard something else.

“ICEBERG. RIGHT AHEAD.”  
The call was surprisingly clear, shouted into a telephone 15 metres up in the air and travelling through what had been tranquility. Davey was frozen, still in shock from the interruption and confused by the warning, but Jack had a little more sense about him. He hurried to the railings of the ship, climbing up a couple of rungs so he could grab a nearby rope and swing out a little over the side of the boat to get a look at what was happening. What he saw, he could barely believe.

“That bell ain’t about us, Dave,” he confirmed, his voice low and scarily monotone.

The iceberg looked huge even from this distance, and the ship was heading straight for it. Jack couldn’t bring himself to look away. After a few moments Davey joined him, grateful when Jack’s arm went around his waist to keep him stable on the rails – he’d dangled off the side of this ship one too many times already for the journey. At first he was certain the iceberg was a mirage, but it just loomed higher and higher as they got closer and closer. When the ships engines jolted beneath them, a futile effort to slow the ship to give it time to turn, he was shaken back to full consciousness.  

“What do we do? Jack?!” he cried, confused and panicked.

“Nothin’,” Jack admitted quietly. “We can’t do nothin’.” What use could they be against something that big. The _Titanic_ made its passengers feel like they were on a floating city, and the two of them couldn’t single handedly defend the city from the approaching giant.  
“Oh my god,” Davey mumbled, pressing his body a little closer against Jack’s, for reassurance now more than anything else.

“It’s the safest ship in the world, right?” Jack reminded him. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Davey nodded, but that didn’t loosen the white-knuckle grip he had on the railings. That iceberg seemed, at least from the angle he was seeing it, almost as big as the _Titanic_ itself.  
They watched as it got closer, neither of them saying anything. The ocean and the engines and their steady breathing seemed to be the only noise. It was like the ship didn’t know what was coming, like it wasn’t aware that it was heading towards a solid, immoveable object that was going to put up a fight. As the _Titanic_ slowly began to turn, it only brought the iceberg closer to them.

They both felt it when it hit, lurching them just enough that they dropped down off the railings and onto the deck. But other than that, it all seemed fine. Calm. Quiet. The ice seemed to pass just alongside the hull, no doubt shocking anyone who happened to be looking out the portholes. Davey watched transfixed, and wouldn’t have moved at all if it hadn’t been for Jack pulling him away.  
“Get away from the edge,” he urged, tugging Davey several metres towards the centre of the deck.

He’d been right too. Small chunks of ice broke away from the berg and sprayed across the wooden planks, falling just short of where they were now stood. Davey wanted to reach for Jack’s hand as he looked up at this mountain of ice, feeling uncomfortably small, but people were starting to spill out onto the deck, confused and by no means comforted by what they found.

As soon as the iceberg had passed the length of the Steerage deck, Jack ran back to the railings, climbing up again to this time look down at the hull. He couldn’t see anything that suggested severe damage and a wave of relief spread through him. They weren’t in any danger.

More and more people started to fill the deck, some fully dressed all in wool and others with patched jackets thrown over nightwear, all passing on the tale of what had happened like some perverse game of Chinese Whispers. A couple of men started a game of football with one of the larger chunks of ice, laughing as it slid around the deck. The calm of the night had become jovial and light, almost making the collision seem like a dream. When Jack turned to make sure Davey was still okay, he found him holding some of the ice in his hands, watching it intently as it melted.

“Hey,” Jack said gently. “Your hands’ll get cold.”

They already were, bitten red by the quick freeze of the ice. Jack took it off of him and held Davey’s hands between his own, warming them up again with his own body heat.

“That was… close,” Davey mumbled, still feeling the final waves of his distress.

“We’re fine, we’re all fine,” Jack reassured him. “Come on, let’s find somewhere warm.”

They didn’t particularly want to head back down into the Third Class quarters where they knew stewards were probably still looking for them, so that only left up. Jack found a small set of stairs leading up to a higher deck that they probably weren’t allowed to be on and, since they’d almost completely thrown class divisions out of the window that evening, neither of them had any qualms about climbing up.

As Jack was opening the gate at the top of the stairs, a group of crewmen strode purposely towards them. For a moment he thought he and Davey had been caught once and for all, but then he looked more closely. Was that the captain? Certainly what they’d done wasn’t quite bad enough to get the most senior members of staff involved. But they didn’t seem in the slightest bit interested in Jack and Davey, even if they were climbing up stairs they shouldn’t be, just waving them aside so they could get down to the Steerage deck. Jack listened in to their conversation as they passed.

_“-boiler room six is flooded eight feet above the plate and the mail hold is worse. She’s all buckled in in the forward hull.”  
“Can you shore up?”_

_“Not unless the pumps get ahead.”_

_“Have you seen the damage in the mail hold?”  
“No, she’s already underwater. I don’t think-”_

Even from the little Jack could catch, it was enough. A chill ran through his entire body.

“This is bad,” he mumbled, barely able to form much of a coherent sentence. He wasn’t exactly an expert on ocean liners, but he could read people. The faces of the crewmembers had spelled panic clear as day, and even the captain had looked inordinately troubled. Besides, words like ‘flooded’ and ‘underwater’ weren’t things you wanted to hear applied to the one thing keeping you afloat in the middle of an ocean of water so cold it could eat you alive.

“What?” Davey asked, confused. There wasn’t any danger, was there? Everything seemed perfectly calm, no one had sounded any kind of alarm after that first bell.

Jack turned to Davey, unblinking and afraid.

“This is serious,” he said, as even and calm as he could manage.

If Jack could read almost everyone, Davey could just read Jack. But it was enough.   
“We should tell Sarah, and my parents,” he decided. He wanted to make sure his sister was safe, if nothing else.

Jack flinched. “Now it just got worse.”

The Jacobs family were both his favourite and least favourite people. Davey was a miracle, Sarah seemed pretty great, but the parents were a piece of work. They seemed to get off on making other people seem small, and Jack wasn’t even going to start on how they treated their son.  
“You’re coming with me, right?” Davey asked, worried. He couldn’t go back there alone, not fearing everyone would be judging him for what they undoubtedly knew he had done.

Jack sighed, but he knew what his answer was going to be even before Davey had finished the question. He’d follow him anywhere if he asked with those wide eyes.  
“Always, darlin’” he promised, trying out another nickname that made Davey smile and blush a little.

No matter what was happening, they were in it together.

***

Getting back to First Class was surprisingly easy. The stewards they passed all seemed a little frazzled, like they were being asked too many questions they couldn’t answer, and they didn’t pay much attention to the two men walking closely side-by-side through the foyer. Davey wanted to take Jack’s hand, but it wasn’t worth the risk. There may have been a buzz of something going around, but that didn’t make people blind.

When they rounded the corner to the corridor Davey’s stateroom was on, they found the one person who Davey loathed more than anyone in the world. It took all of his mental faculties to not visibly react with disgust, instead keeping his head high and striding past with Jack beside him.

“We’ve been looking for you, sir,” Snyder tried, as if Davey hadn’t been part of the game of cat and mouse.

Davey walked into his room to find both of his parents, Sarah, and three uniformed crew members staring back at him.  
“David!” Esther gasped, shocked to see that he had returned of his own accord. She felt hopeful, for a second, that he was finally ready to repent, but that dropped like a stone in her stomach when Jack followed her son through the door.

“Mother, something serious has happened,” Davey began, unsure how exactly to explain the iceberg. He was hoping Jack would take over, but Esther replied before he had the chance.

“Yes. It has,” she said coldly, her eyes flickering between her son and Jack.

Davey gulped, his cheeks going red. Of course they knew, he’d hardly left his room in a state that suggested anything otherwise. It was a little bit of rebellion he regretted – making the bed would probably have helped somewhat.

“We didn’t-” he tried anyway, hoping all they were doing was speculating. Jack stayed quiet at his side, not wanting to make things worse.

“Lying won’t do you any good, David,” Esther warned, her words clipped and harsh.

Sarah climbed to her feet, pulling Davey into a hug.  
“They found the drawing,” She admitted, her voice a little teary. “I’m so sorry, they made me open the safe. I didn’t know what would be in there.”

Oh. That was more proof than unmade sheets. He was without doubt the one in the sketch, and Jack’s name was on the paper clear as day.  
“It’s okay,” Davey tried to reassure his sister, but his words sounded as numb as he felt. He’d never meant for anyone but him and Jack to see that piece of paper.

“Arrest him.”

Esther’s voice sounded out loud and clear and for a second Davey thought she was talking about him, but then she raised her hand to point squarely at Jack.  
“No!” Davey protested, trying to move to stand in front of him and scowling when the crew members maneuvered him out of the way and forced Jack’s hands behind his back. “Mother, what are you doing?” he asked, betrayed and horrified. “We’re in the middle of an emergency, why are you doing this now?”  
“What he did to you was illegal, David. He will be arrested,” Esther said.

Jack held his head high as he was manhandled, smirking when the men didn’t touch him more than absolutely necessarily as if liking guys was a disease they could catch. Besides, smarmy White Star Line employees weren’t his type. He liked his men tall and dark-haired, with gorgeous blue eyes and a rebellious streak that could match his own if it got the right encouragement.

He’d been expecting something like this to happen, at the back of his mind, ever since he’d started fooling around with other boys when he was fifteen. He knew it was against the law, but he didn’t care. It felt good and it wasn’t hurting anyone, so he figured it was the law that was the problem. He’d always been more careful though, so as _not_ to end up in handcuffs, but Davey made him forget how to be practical. Now he was paying the price, but better him than Davey.

Davey wanted to scream. Everything they’d done had been enthusiastically mutual and he was close to yelling _he didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t do to him_ just to see the look on his mother’s face _._ Jack stopped him. He was struggling against the handcuffs that were being locked around his wrists, but his eyes were urging Davey not to say a thing.  
“Keep yourself safe, please,” he begged, as he was dragged out of the room.

Davey tried to run after him, but Mayer grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him back inside the room, turning the key in the lock.

“You can’t do this,” he threatened.

“I believe I already have,” Esther replied sternly. “It’s for the best.”

 _The best for who_ , Davey thought miserably. He wasn’t happy, Jack wasn’t happy, and no one else should even be involved. This was all his fault. He’d been stupid and careless all day and he’d practically dragged Jack back into a trap to arrest him and cart him off god-knows-where in the middle of what he seemed pretty convinced was a disaster. He sat on the edge of the couch, burying his face in his hands. This was all wrong. There was no way he was going to be allowed out of his room anytime soon, that much was evident, and he already felt vines of frustration winding up his legs. A hand rested on his shoulder, making him jump, but it was only Sarah rubbing small reassuring circles that quickly became the only thing stopping him from completely falling apart.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mild physical violence from a parent against a child (well, he's not a child, but he's Esther's child)

Feeling acutely like he was under house arrest, Davey glared at his mother as she paced the room in front of him. Sarah was still at his side, silently providing some measure of support, but he knew she could only go so far to try and protect him without ending up in some kind of trouble herself. The crewmembers had left when Jack had been taken away; Mayer had followed, unable to stand being in the same room as his son after knowing what he’d done; but Snyder remained, leaning against the door and looking down on Davey with narrowed, untrustworthy eyes.

It was uncomfortable to know everyone was probably thinking about him and Jack. What they’d done and where they’d done it. He knew Sarah wasn’t going to judge him, but that didn’t mean he was exactly happy with her having seen Jack’s drawing of him. Considering Esther had seen it too, he was glad it was locked back up in a safe that only he and Sarah could open. If she destroyed it he’d hate her even more. It wasn’t something that appeared to be on her mind, though, as she walked circles around the room, unable to even look at her eldest son.  
Davey couldn’t stand the silence. They were all thinking so much that not talking about it was making the room close and stifling with the unspoken. So he voiced one of his thoughts.

“He is everything I have ever prayed for,” he admitted, his voice steady and certain.

When he’d still been futilely trying to like girls, he’d prayed that someone right would make him feel something. When he’d accepted the fact it would never be girls he was interested in, he’d prayed he’d find someone patient and gorgeous and kind. Jack ticked every box and then a dozen more for things Davey never even dared to pray he’d get. Still, Esther couldn’t see that.

“You stay quiet, or you’ll end up right down there with him,” she warned, as if she thought that was a bad thing. Davey would have given anything to be with Jack, but he knew Esther thought it might still be possible to save him whilst it was too late for Jack. He didn’t want to be saved.  
“I deserve it as much as he does,” Davey pointed out.

“David,” Esther warned with a growl.

He didn’t get it. If the crime was loving a man, he was guilty. If the crime was being intimate with a man, he was guilty - they had what amounted to almost corporeal proof, what with Jack’s sketch. Davey had no idea how Esther had managed to get Jack taken away, and not him. Unless, of course, she’d told the Master at Arms that he was the victim, that Jack coerced him and convinced him to go to bed with him against his will. Davey shuddered, hating the idea that there were people on board who thought Jack was both capable and guilty of rape. He felt sick at the thought and it only added to the anger that was slowly boiling in his stomach.

“Do you think I didn’t want it?” he asked, practically spitting the words. “Do you really think I didn’t ask him, _beg_ him, to touch me?”

Before, he’d never have dreamed of saying it out loud, he would have hated to even think it. But he was done pretending it was something to be ashamed of. Even if the words were said mainly to rile up his mother, every one of them was true.

Esther froze in her pacing and finally turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock and despair. Davey met her stare with his own, one of defiance. There was nothing she could do to him that would make him regret a single second he’d spent with Jack.

There were a few beats of silence, calm enough that Davey could feel his own heartbeat in his veins, until Esther lunged forwards and slapped her son across the face as hard as she could manage. Davey refused to give her the satisfaction of crying out, instead clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth to bear the bloom of pain, defiantly maintaining eye contact. Sarah shrieked, instinctively covering her mouth and cowering away before realising that Davey wasn’t going to protect himself if Esther decided to hit him again and scrambling to her feet and put herself between him and their mother.

“Enough,” she ordered. She knew Davey was strong enough to endure the verbal harassment he might get, but physical harassment wasn’t going to be happening to her little brother whilst she was around.  
“That boy is a corrupting influence,” Esther hissed, pretending Sarah wasn’t even there.

She glared at Davey over her daughter’s shoulder, willing him to see what she was certain was true. This wasn’t the son she had raised. She stepped closer, like she was going to bodily move Sarah out of the way to reach Davey again, but a sudden knock at the door stopped her in her tracks.

Frustrated, she pressed her fingers to her temples. “Not now,” she called out.

The door swung open anyway, a steward bustling in. He paused for a second when he saw the scene in front of him, but he brushed it away after a second’s thought, knowing better than to meddle in the lives of passengers.

“Excuse me, I’ve been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelts and come up to the-” he began, clearly repeating a spiel before he was cut off.

“Not now!” Esther repeated sternly, losing her patience.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs Jacobs, but it’s Captain’s orders,” the steward insisted, crossing the room to open a cupboard and pull out the room’s lifebelts. “Now please, dress warmly. It’s quite cold out tonight.”

Davey blinked, concerned. If they were handing out lifebelts then that meant the ship really was sinking. Suddenly Jack’s absence got far more pressing. He remembered a conversation he’d had with Mr. Andrews, the head designer of the ship, whilst walking circles round the First Class deck. There weren’t enough lifeboats for half of the people aboard. Fear crawled up his back to curl around his shoulders like a cat, leaving tiny pin pricks of pain from its claws. Wherever Jack was, he wasn’t safe.

“This is ridiculous,” Esther scoffed, still not understanding the severity of the situation.

The steward tried to hand her a lifebelt, sighing and placing it on the end of the couch when she refused to take it.  
“Don’t worry, sir,” he said, catching the fear in Davey’s eyes. “I am sure it’s only a precaution.”

Davey nodded mutely, unable to tell this stranger that he wasn’t worried about himself, but about the man he was in love with who was somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t right beside him where he belonged, on a sinking ship.

The steward left, moving on to the next cabin along, and Esther resumed the conversation as if nothing had even happened.

“I’m telling you now, David, never think about that man again,” she threatened. This all had to be Jack’s fault.

Davey laughed bitterly. He didn’t care what she thought any more.  
“I wanted men long before I even met him. I had dreams about it, even before Albert. If there is a god, _they_ made me this way, not Jack,” he said, not caring that the words hurt her. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t accept them. “And I’m in love with Jack. I could _never_ stop thinking about him,” he added as a second thought. He hadn’t properly said it out loud yet and he was a little disappointed that the first person to be hearing it was his mother, but he was so sure of himself that he wanted to say it as many times as possible, starting now.

Esther gasped like Davey had returned a hit of his own. It was one thing to know he had slept with another man, but it was another to hear that he had genuine feelings for the boy that he didn’t even seem to regret.  
“I can’t listen to this,” she said, holding back tears and taking a step towards the door. When she reached half way she turned, her eyes narrowed. “Sarah, out.”

If there was one thing she didn’t trust, it was her daughter not to encourage Davey’s unhealthy addictions. Sarah pouted, desperate to stay with Davey. To make sure he was safe and to eventually pry some gossip from him about how his evening had gone. It sounded particularly colourful and she was dying to get as many details as he’d tell her.  
“Mama-” she protested.

“Out,” Esther interrupted. “You are not to speak to your brother again. Mr Snyder?” she prompted, turning to the man by the door.  
“I will watch the boy,” he promised calmly, too calmly for Davey’s comfort, not even needing to be asked.

Davey just groaned, feeling more and more like a criminal in a cell. He didn’t need to be guarded, he wasn’t dangerous. Sarah pulled him in for a hug before she had to leave, and he took the opportunity to whisper a hurried message in her ear.

“Sarah, Jack- He’s not safe down there- Please-” he mumbled, his thoughts scrambled. He needed to get out, to get to Jack, but he had no idea how he was going to get out of the room. Snyder almost certainly had a gun on him and, while Davey was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually fire it at him, it wasn’t something he wanted to test. He had a long and happy life with Jack planned, and he wasn’t keen on a bullet putting an end to that before it could even begin. That meant Sarah was his only hope.

“I’ll do something, I promise,” Sarah whispered back, reluctantly pulling away from the hug and leaving Davey alone with Snyder as Esther grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from the room.

Once they were gone, Snyder stepped in front of the door and turned the key in the lock, dragging a chair across so he could sit in front of it.

“You’re a disgrace, boy,” he spat.

Davey rolled his eyes and stuck up his middle finger, refusing to dignify the remark with a proper response. He couldn’t bring himself to say sat still, getting up from the couch and pacing up and down the length of the living room, his fingers playing with the hem of Jack’s blue shirt at his hips. Always. More than once Jack had said that he’d always follow Davey, and now it was Davey’s turn to return the favour – just as soon as Sarah got him out of his cell.


	19. Chapter 19

Jack struggled a little as they handcuffed him to a steam pipe in the Masters at Arms’ office on E Deck, not quite angry enough to lash out and elbow someone in the face but pretty damn close. They were just crewmen doing their job, after all. He and Davey had done something that was, as far as the law was concerned, inexcusable. But the law was bullshit, because who was allowed to tell him what he was and wasn’t allowed to do in bed with another consenting adult. Yelling that at White Star Line staff probably wasn’t going to make much of a difference.

As soon as their detainee was suitably restrained, the harried stewards left– something Jack was pretty sure he could chalk up to after-effects of the iceberg – leaving him alone with the Master at Arms. He was expecting silence, maybe to be read his rights if he even had any. But of course, that wasn’t what he got.

“So, the Jacobs women tells me you’re a faggot. That you seduced her son,” the man leered, screwing up his face like he was disgusted by the very idea.

Jack refused to talk, staring straight ahead at the wall and gritting his teeth. He hadn’t seduced Davey. Well, technically he had seduced Davey but Davey had been very willing to be seduced. And he’d seduced Jack right back. None of which Jack was going to relay to a clearly homophobic man who had the key to his handcuffs.

“Not going to talk, fairy? Well you’re no fun,” he huffed. After a second’s thought he pulled a small revolver from the inside of his jacket and grinned, flicking the safety on and off. “I could make you.”

Jack winced. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun pointed at him and it probably wasn’t going to be the last, but it was never pleasant.  
“What, you gonna shoot a confession outta me?” Jack asked, a little angry. Sleeping with men hardly made him a danger to society who needed a gun pulled on him to keep him in line. The Master at Arms wasn’t exactly his type, so he didn’t have to worry about being hit on. “What good am I dead?” Jack spat.  
“What good are you alive?” the man shrugged, leaning forward on the desk and taking aim at Jack’s head with the gun, just to unnerve him.

***

Davey felt like he’d walked miles around his room, pacing from wall to wall and futilely hoping Jack was okay and Sarah would do something and the ship would stay afloat. Snyder just watched him with a cold, dispassionate stare as if he were some kind of bug struggling on its back under a microscope. At least he wasn’t talking anymore, because Davey wasn’t sure how much more he could take of being told he was a disgrace and a disappointment and the human embodiment of everything that was wrong with the world, when all he felt like was a boy in love. How was it right that he should be punished for the butterflies in his stomach every time Jack smiled at him, or the rush of blood that roared in his ears when Jack kissed him, or the goosebumps and shivers Jack left behind with his touch. Wanting to claw at his own skin in frustration, Davey slumped down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling with its mahogany paneling and gold gilt decoration. He hated it.

When a knock sounded at the door, he half hoped it was another steward urging them to leave so he could get out of his gilded pseudo-prison. Turning his head halfheartedly as Snyder stood to unlock the door, he listened in.

“Mr Snyder, my father would like a word,” Sarah’s voice sounded, and Davey sat up fast. This had better be a jail break. “He said it was urgent, about the ship,” she insisted.

Snyder turned back to Davey, unconvinced this wasn’t a scam. But he couldn’t deny that the stewards seemed frantic – something was definitely happening. It was plausible that Mayer could indeed want to talk to him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he hissed to Davey, before he hurried out of the room and down towards the foyer.

Sarah winked at Davey as soon as Snyder was out of earshot.

“Go get your man,” she said, kissing his cheek and pulling him into a hug. She hated that he was being treated so badly.

“Thanks,” Davey smiled, hugging his sister back before stepping back and toward the door. He had to find Jack.

“And David?” Sarah called after him just before he could slip out of the door. “Stay safe. Please.” She didn’t know what was happening, but she was worried. If the ship wasn’t in danger, that didn’t mean Jack and Davey weren’t still going to end up hurt. She wasn’t sure how serious accusations of sodomy were, but she didn’t want her brother to have to find out.

“You too,” Davey said sincerely. She could get into a lot of trouble with both Snyder and their parents for lying like she had for him.

He left the room behind and headed down the corridor with no idea where to find Jack. Knowing they’d taken him down was all well and good, but that left half a dozen decks with thousands of rooms and no starting point. He needed someone who could give him directions, but the corridors seemed empty of stewards the one time he actually needed them. His search led him out onto the deck and he stopped in his tracks.

The orchestra had brought their instruments outside, playing a lively wedding dance to a gaggle of First Class passengers who paid them no attention and instead gathered around the lifeboats. An emergency flare was shot up into the air as Davey watched, the sparks bursting into the sky and drawing gasps from the crowds. A little girl pointed up, laughing with delight like it was all a game. But those flares meant _danger_ and _rescue us_ and _we need aid_. From the snatches of conversation he could catch from crew members, this was all still just a precaution. Women and children were to get into the lifeboats as a safety measure, but there was no reason for alarm. Except Davey was certain he could feel the boat starting to list beneath his feet, slowly but surely dragging them all down to the bottom of the ocean. His heart started hammering in his chest, pouring anxiety into his veins. If he had to face this, he needed Jack beside him, needed to know he was at least safe.

Turning round fast, in need of some direction, Davey caught sight of his father out of the corner of his eye. Ducking out of sight, he found himself crashing into someone. When the man righted him, Davey was about to stammer an apology and move on. Except this was just the man who could help him. He’d designed the entire ship – he’d know where Jack was and he’d know what the fate of the _Titanic_ would be come dawn.

“Mr Andrews, I saw the iceberg. And I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth,” Davey begged, frantically.

Clearly thinking about brushing him away the same repeated story of precautionary measures, Thomas Andrews took in this desperate boy, barely a man, and could almost feel the fear coursing through him. He couldn’t bring himself to lie.  
“The ship will sink,” he admitted quietly, making sure not to be overheard.

“You’re certain?” Davey gasped. He’d hoped that would be a worst-case scenario, but there didn’t seem to be any doubt in the man’s eyes.  
“In an hour, or so, all this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic,” Andrews confirmed, clearly already destroyed by the knowledge. He’d resigned himself to going down with the ship. Half the people on board were going to die and he couldn’t bring himself to be one of the lucky few when he’d been the one to design the thing that was responsible. “Please, tell only who you must. I don’t want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat – quickly. Don’t wait. You remember what I told you about the boats?” he asked. Davey was a good kid, he deserved to be one of the lucky ones. He was young – there was so much of the world left for him to see.  
Davey nodded slowly, remembering their conversation from the deck. Space for less than half on the boats. Less than half. That meant more than a thousand would die, and if he didn’t find a space on a lifeboat quickly, he was going to be one of them. Only if Jack wasn’t there beside him, he didn’t want the seat. He couldn’t row away from the doomed ship knowing the man who had changed his life and freed his soul was still trapped on board.

“There’s something I have to do. Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?” Davey asked, a sense of urgency to the words.

“You have to get to a boat right away,” Andrews repeated, confused but determined to make sure Davey saw sunrise.

Davey wasn’t listening anymore.  
“I’m doing this with or without your help, sir. But without will take longer,” he explained, the insinuation clear. There was a fire in his eyes that Andrews didn’t want to test, and he could tell that the longer he tried to protest the worse he was going to make things.

Sighing, he tried to map out the journey as best he could. “Take the lift to the very bottom, then take a left. Down the crewman’s passage, make a right at the stairs.”

“Thank you, Mr Andrews,” Davey said, memorising the instructions. As he turned away to head across the foyer, he realised he might never see the man again. There was a very real chance one or both of them was going to die. “The _Titanic_ changed everything for me… This isn’t your fault. You built a good ship, sir, and the world will honour you for it.” Then Davey was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“Godspeed,” Andrews shouted after him, choking back a few tears before blinking them away. He still had a job to do, needing to make sure as many people made it out of this alive as he could. He just hoped whoever Davey was looking to save was worth the risk.

***

Jack’s arms were starting to ache, pulled up at an awkward angle, and the handcuffs were chafing away at the skin on his wrists. He wished that were his biggest problem, but the water outside the window was starting to rise, already halfway up the porthole. The _Titanic_ was sinking, no doubt about it, and he was on one of the lowest decks near the front of the ship. It wouldn’t be long before he drowned – he could feel the boat listing steadily towards his demise, and he wasn’t the only one.

The Master at Arms had taken a spare bullet and was rolling it down the desk, placing it at the top and catching it as it rolled off the bottom again and again in a monotonous taunt of peril.

“You know, I do believe this ship may sink,” he said, almost gleeful. He knew Jack had no way of getting himself out of the situation. “Looks like I won’t have to kill you myself after all.”

Jack just scowled, unable to comprehend how someone could think it apt to leave him chained up to die just because he was attracted to men. This was murder, not justice. Still, at least Davey was safe. His stateroom was far above all this and his family was rich – they’d get out of this alive just fine. Jack had seen how dedicated Esther could be to a cause and he was betting on her being just as determined not to die. 

After a few more bullet rolls, the Master at Arms clearly deciding he’d had enough of tempting fate. He gathered up the few things he had and pocketed them, including the key to Jack’s handcuffs, and made for the door. Just as he was about to leave he had a second thought and crossed the room. Jack thought, just for a second, that maybe he’d decided to release him, to at least give him a chance to survive, but instead the man punched him hard in the stomach, winding him for nothing more than a sadistic thrill.

“The world will be better off without you,” he sneered, walking out into the corridor and leaving Jack wheezing and coughing and trying not to cry. He hadn’t even had a chance to kiss Davey goodbye.


	20. Chapter 20

Davey rushed across the foyer, trying not to trip over the rich passengers in their ermine coats and mink stoles as they mingled together, disgruntled at the lateness of the hour and disinclined to go out into the cold. It was a show of great restraint on his behalf not to bodily push the lingering and dawdling people out of the way, before he realised that was _exactly_ what he should be doing. This could be a matter of life and death and Jack’s safety came before these people thinking he was polite in Davey’s list of priorities. He fought his way through the crowd, barging past when people wouldn’t move.

“Excuse me! Thank you,” he shouted, still unable to completely be done with manners. They were just ingrained into him.

He made it to the lifts just as the last operator was trying to get away. The two elevators on either side had been shut down and abandoned, but the centre grill was still pulled back and the light was on as the operator attempted to wave away a steady stream of passengers.

“Lifts are closed. I’m sorry, lifts are closed,” he repeated to each request to go back down to their room and fetch a hat or a shawl to keep away some of the chill. When Davey slid to a stop in front of him, the man just rolled his eyes and started the spiel again from the top. “Sorry sir, but the lifts are currently out of order.”

Davey thought about explaining the situation. He thought about telling this complete stranger that there was a man he held very dear to him being kept captive for the most innocent of crimes and he couldn’t be left there to die because of it. But that was going to take time and brain power that Davey just didn’t have. Every single shred of his focus was fixated on getting to Jack as quickly as possible.  
“I’m through with being polite, goddamnit!” he growled, striding into the lift and dragging the operator in after him. “Now take me down!”

He said it with enough command that the operator couldn’t do much more than blink and obey, shutting the grill and pulling the lever to start the lifts mechanisms.

“E Deck,” Davey added, tapping his toes in his shoes in an effort to stop the tension in his body from flooding over and becoming too much to handle. The last thing he needed was an anxiety attack.

Suddenly his feet were swamped with a wave of water, spilling in as the lift descended. Davey gasped, pushing himself up on the railing that circled the lift so he could avoid the water, but eventually it was knee high and he had no choice but to let his shoes and trousers get sodden. It was freezing, just like Jack said, and Davey was suddenly very thankful that Jack had talked him out of jumping. The bones in his feet were already going numb, the nerves running up his legs singing in pain. It was a unique kind of torture and he could already tell that this was going to be the hell his mother promised him he’d endure.

“I’m going back up!” the operator shouted, panicked and already reaching for the lever.   
“No!” Davey protested, yanking open the grill and practically tumbling out of the lift onto E Deck, just about managing to right himself before he fell face first into the freezing water.

“Come back!” the operator called, horrified. He clearly didn’t want to leave someone stranded down in the depths of the _Titanic_ when it was in a state like this, but he had enough self-preservation to realise that Davey wasn’t getting back in the lift any time soon. “I’m going back up. I’m going back up,” he mumbled, pulling the grill closed and sighing with relief as the water started to drain out of the lift as it gained altitude.

Davey didn’t even bother to watch him go, too focused on the task at hand. So he had to find another way back up to the boat deck, but what did that matter when first he had to find Jack. Repeating Mr. Andrew’s instructions to himself again and again under his breath, Davey look around for the crew passage, relieved when it was signposted with a small bronze plaque.

Heading down it was easier said than done. The water provided resistance against him as he walked, weighing down his legs as the water level rose higher and higher with each step. Evidently he was walking towards _Titanic_ ’s wound, and he could only hope that he still had enough time. That Jack still had enough time.

By the time he reached the end of the passage, the water was up to Davey’s hips and had stolen all the heat from his legs, leaving behind gooseflesh as rough as sandpaper and involuntary twitches of pain. Furniture had floated out from some of the open rooms and he was having to haul tables and chairs out of the way to press forward. When the lights flickered out, Davey was certain he was going to die. He hadn’t brought a torch with him and there were no portholes on the corridor – not that the moon outside would have provided much help if there had been. Still, he didn’t let his feet stop moving. If he was going to die then he was at least going to find Jack first. Dying alone sounded like the worst fate he could imagine.

After a couple more steps the lights sparked back to life, sending white spots across Davey’s vision as his pupils struggled to cope. Relieved the blinding darkness had only been temporary, Davey moved to surge forwards before he realised he was already at the stairs. This was where his directions ended and, spinning round, he couldn’t see anywhere obvious to turn.

“Jack?” he called out, his voice hoarse from the cold. “Jack?!”

He started mumbling a Jewish prayer for protection he’d been taught as a child under his breath, more out of instinct than anything else. Only one line in he realised that it wasn’t going to do him any good and switched out Psalms for Jack’s name – it was just as precious to him anyway, if not more so. It was what he got to whisper and moan and now it was what he had to yell, trying to make his voice carry as far into the ship’s labyrinth as he could.

***

When Jack heard Davey he dismissed it as a hallucination, born of desperation. Water had been flooding under the door for the best part of ten minutes, going from only a few trickles to a couple of feet deep. He’d climbed up onto the desk to get away from it, but there was only so far he could go with the handcuffs still fastened around the thick iron pipe. It wasn’t breaking any time soon and it was rooted solidly into the ceiling and floor. Jack had almost given up.

Still, Davey’s voice kept sounding and what harm could it do to call back, even if it just calmed his psyche for a moment or too. If he got to hallucinate Davey then that was a least an echo of a goodbye.

“Davey?” he shouted, just a little bit hopeful.

There was a long pause and Jack was worried he’d shattered the illusion. Then “Jack?! Jack, where are you?” and everything seemed a lot more real.

“Davey! In here, Davey,” Jack called back, banging the chain connecting the handcuffs together against the pipe to create a beacon of noise for Davey to follow.

When Davey shoved the door open, struggling a little against the water, and finally saw Jack in front of him, he wanted to cry. It was horrible to see him chained up and guilt joined cold in Davey’s bones, boring into the marrow to set up shop. He had been the one who had taken Jack to his room, he had been the one to suggest they go to bed together. If either of them deserved to be arrested for what they’d done, it was him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, practically throwing himself across the room through the water, creating waves.

As he got closer he realised there were tears gathered in the corners of Jack’s eyes, and he had to restrain a sob himself. He couldn’t imagine what Jack must have been going through all alone down here as the room slowly filled with water. When Jack reached out for him only to be painfully reminded of the handcuffs with a taunting _clank_ of metal on metal as the pipe stopped him from touching Davey’s face, Davey willingly moved closer and kissed Jack desperately. A part of him had thought he was never going to get to do that again and he was enjoying beating fate. From the way Jack was kissing back, he was just as relieved to be reunited. But that meant Davey had put his life on the line for him

“Oh god, Davey,” Jack groaned, keeping his forehead pressed against Davey’s as he spoke. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re so stupid.” He just wanted him safe, and right now they were the opposite of safe.

Davey shrugged, like he’d never even considered doing anything else.  
“Never going anywhere without you,” he admitted with another kiss.  
“Oh Davey,” Jack sighed, looking into his eyes and wondering how much time he had left to do it. If he wasn’t going to make it through the night, he wanted those eyes to be the last thing he ever saw.  
“I’m in love with you,” Davey said, forcing the words out fast so he didn’t stutter over them all and waste more of the time they didn’t have.

A blush was creeping up Davey’s cheeks and Jack really wished he could touch his face and trace the pink bloom. He wasn’t enjoying this whole handcuffed thing.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he smiled, brushing his lips against Davey’s sweetly and gently, making the most of the only form of affection he could physically manage.

Davey wanted to keep kissing, but not having Jack’s hands in his hair or arms around his waist was a constant reminder that Jack was restrained, and the glacial water lapping at his hips demonstrated the most pressing problem. There would be time of all this later, but right now they had to get out.  
“Tell me what to do,” he said, stepping away so Jack’s lips weren’t such a temptation.

Right, yes, sinking ship. Jack knew he had to focus. He filed how nice it was to near Davey saying he loved him to the back of his mind so he could dwell on it later, and turned his attention to the matter at hand.  
“Check the key cabinet for a spare – we need a small silver one, like the handcuffs,” he ordered, gesturing to a cupboard behind Davey with a glass door revealing rows and rows of keys that must have opened almost everything on the ship.

Davey waded across the room and frantically searched through the keys, getting more and more concerned when each one was clearly for a door or a chest.  
“There’s nothing – they’re all brass,” he shouted back, fear making his voice waver.

Jack tried not to give up hope, looking around the room for Plan b.  
“Desk?” he offered. There were a couple of drawers, it wasn’t completely implausible.

The hull of the ship groaned as Davey struggled over to the desk, making him stumble and flinch. It sounded angry and pained and it proved just how much stress the ship was under. They had to get to a lifeboat, but they had one hell of a hurdle to jump first.  
“No,” Davey mumbled when he searched the desk drawers to find nothing. He was fighting back tears. “Oh god, Jack, fuck,” he groaned, having no idea where they went from here. He wasn’t leaving without Jack, he _couldn’t_ , but he was terrified of the idea of drowning down here. Rushing back to Jack, he took his hands and squeezed, wishing for a hug he couldn’t have.  
“Get out, Dave. Just get yourself safe,” Jack begged. He could cope with whatever happened if he knew Davey was far away, somewhere he was safe.

Davey just stared, horrified. How could Jack possibly think he could ever leave him to die?  
“ _No_. I’m not leaving without you,” Davey insisted, but he had to admit that they’d pretty much exhausted the Master at Arms’ office for possibility as far as an escape went. He had to look a little further afield. “I’ll be back, okay. I promise. I’m getting help. I’ll be right back.”

With one more long kiss, Davey staggered back to the door.

“I’ll just wait here,” Jack called, unable to resist just a little bit of humour to lighten the situation.  
Davey rolled his eyes and grinned at him before ducking up into the corridor and leaving Jack alone in the office, still chained to the pipe with lights that were cutting out with escalating frequency. Even with no way to escape, it was Davey he was worried about – a concern he knew would sit with him for the rest of his life. Davey was it now, he was the single most important thing in Jack’s world.


	21. Chapter 21

Davey didn’t exactly like leaving Jack again, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If he stayed, Jack was dead. And he wasn’t about to let that happen.

The water level was even higher as he fought his way back down the corridor, up to his chest now. It was clear that they didn’t have long before the entire deck was underwater and he didn’t want to consider what happened what that time ran out. He just hoped that, when it did, he was with Jack. Whether they’d gotten out of this mess or not.

The lights in the hallway were blinking threateningly as Davey struggled against the tide of the water as it slowly filled the ship. Every other moment, he was plunged into darkness but stopping wasn’t an option so he struggled through the sensory overload and winced every time furniture he hadn’t seen coming collided with his shins. The water was still the worst part, biting at his arms and legs and clacking his teeth together. Davey could feel his core body temperature lowering and he knew it wasn’t sensible to stay submerged longer than was absolutely necessary. Still, as he dragged his waterlogged limbs down the corridor, it felt like there was no end in sight.

When he eventually threw himself into the stairwell and scrambled up the stairs, Davey was struggling to breathe. Fighting against the current was more exercise then he’d had in his life and the freezing water made it painful to fill his lungs. He took exactly five seconds to collect himself back together before standing shakily, gripping the bannister at the top of the stairs to keep himself upright. Now he could move freely on dry ground things were a little easier, but his clothes were still heavy and soaked through with enough water to keep his body numb. His trousers stuck to his legs as he pushed away from the stairs and forced himself to walk down the corridor. Jack didn’t have time for him to waste.

D Deck was far easier to navigate than the rushing waters below, with stable lighting and dry carpets that Davey freely tracked watery footprints across. Soon it would be at the bottom of the ocean – what did a few extra water droplets matter now.

“Hello, is there anyone here? Hello?” he shouted, his voice a little ragged but forceful nonetheless. “We need help, hello?!”

When no reply came, Davey was very quickly getting desperate. He didn’t want to face the reality of not finding someone.

“Dammit,” he swore, taking another corner and shoving at each door along the corridor. Most of them had been locked and even those that hadn’t only revealed empty state rooms. It seemed like Davey was the only soul left onboard.

When he turned another corner and came face to face with a man in a jacket and a hat, he leapt out of his skin. He’d pretty much given up hope but now here was another person, finally, and someone who might know what to do even if he couldn’t help them himself.

“Oh, thank god,” Davey sighed, launching into a plea. “Please, I need your help. There’s a man down here and- Wait!”

The man wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, talking fast in Spanish? Or was it Italian? Davey wasn’t sure, but whatever it was he didn’t speak it. And he wasn’t sure the man could speak English either, considering he didn’t seem to be registering a word Davey was saying, just racing through sentence after sentence, seeming quite frantic himself. He just pushed Davey aside and continued up the hall towards the grand staircase. Shouting after him, Davey watched his last hope get further and further away.

It was impossible not to cry. The lights flickered out, leaving him in darkness. Clearly the water was working its way further into the electrics, which could only be a bad sign. Davey collapsed to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall and burying his head in his hands. When that only made the tears fall faster, he tipped his head back to rest it against the wall.

He was alone. He was helpless. He was going to die. It was impossible not to think about all the things he’d lost before they’d ever even happened: early mornings beside Jack, with light streaming through the window; gentle caresses teasing him awake; sleepy kisses and long nights of talking and then less talking and more touching. Finding some goddamn oil.

Maybe his mother was right about everything. If anything was a sign of god’s punishment, this would pretty much be it. Guilt started to eat away at Davey’s stomach again. This might all be his fault… The scenes from the boat deck came back to him. Flares, lifeboats, Mr Andrews’ words about the fate of the ship, Jack in handcuffs. The idea that that might be his fault become of some divine power disciplining him for finally being happy was crushing. But then he thought about Jack kissing him. How safe and content he felt, and how easy to relax into Jack’s arms it was. He shook all thoughts of his mother’s sermons from his mind. This wasn’t god. This wasn’t punishment. This was an iceberg, an accident, a tragedy. But it wasn’t a reason to give up on the life he wanted.

Scrubbing away his tears and sniffling, Davey climbed to his feet with renewed determination. He wasn’t going to sit and wait to die, and even if he did he wouldn’t be doing it alone. He was making it back to Jack one way or another.

Looking around the hall for something, _anything_ , that would be of use, his eyes settled on the fire station - only a hose and an axe but better than nothing. Useless against tides of water, of course, but ideas were forming in Davey’s mind. He picked up the heavy metal end of the hose and smashed it against the glass that covered the axe. When it had shattered away he reached in and took the axe from its perch. It was heavy in his hands and he wasn’t exactly sure how to hold it, but Jack could probably help with that. He couldn’t remember having ever used an axe before in his life but it was going to have to do. It was all they had.

Feeling slightly less powerless, Davey retrace his steps back through the hall to find his way to the top of the stairs down to E Deck. When he reached the top of the staircase, he almost dropped the axe.

The water was up to the ceiling of E Deck, lapping up the stairs. Just as Davey was summoning the courage to descend into the water, the electricity finally quit completely and plunged the deck below into a pool of inky blackness.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he could swim, but that had been in a nicely tiled pool with clear water and sans the threat of death or serious harm. This was worlds away. In any other situation, he’d never have continued down the steps, but Jack was down there. Even as wires spat sparks across the surface of the water, providing a little light at the cost of some extra added danger, Davey shrugged off his jacket so he wouldn’t be weighed down. He left it behind and gritted his teeth as he lowered himself into the water step by step. It was just as cold as before, but this time he had no choice but to get completely submerged. He couldn’t reach the floor anymore, so he settled for dragging himself down the hall by hooking the axe head over the pipes running across the ceiling, ducking under them and trying to stop the shudders in his limbs. When the water level had dropped a little and he could walk without swallowing seawater, Davey forced his feet to move across what used to be a nicely carpeted floor. It felt like a trial and a half to get to the door of the Master at Arms’ office but, as soon as he did, he felt a little calmer already. Jack had that effect on him.

“Jack!” Davey called from the doorway, smiling just a little to see him. He held up the axe with a questioning look.

“Okay… We can work with that…” Jack nodded, a little apprehensive. This seemed like their only option, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a terrible idea. “A couple of practice swings, maybe? Try hittin’ that door, okay,” he suggested, gesturing to the wooden cabinet and pulling a face when the handcuffs collided with the pipe and restricted his movement. He really hated this whole under arrest thing.

Davey nodded and crossed to the cabinet, trying to balance the axe in his hands and adjusting his grip when Jack provided tips. He swung at the door, surprised by the force of the axe and grinning when he left a deep gash in the wood. There was a thrill to destruction.

“Right, now try hittin’ that same spot again. You can do this Davey, you got this,” Jack encouraged.

Davey swung again, the new mark almost a foot away from the first. Jack just swallowed nervously. It was clear Davey’s aim was abysmal, but that wasn’t going to get better any time soon. They couldn’t wait for Davey to practice until he could hit a target. If life came with the cost of losing a finger or two then that was a trade he was willing to make.

“Okay… Enough practice. Let’s just do this,” Jack decided.

Nervously, Davey struggled over to Jack round the displaced furniture. There was a deep, raw fear in his eyes. He was terrified to hurt the person he loved but there was nothing else he could do.

“Listen, hit really hard and really fast,” Jack said, trying to hide his own fear so he didn’t encourage Davey’s.  
“I love you, Jack,” Davey whispered, kissing him quick and desperate. He had no idea how his life had gone from rich parties and world-famous company to swinging an axe at someone’s hands in a matter of hours.  
“I trust you,” Jack promised.

And he did. But he still curled his hands into fists so there was less surface area for Davey to hit and closed his eyes tightly, hiding his face in his shoulder and bracing for pain. Davey wished he had the luxury of looking away, but that was only going to lower his chances of not severing Jack’s wrists. Really wanting to be anywhere else, he raised the axe. Waiting wasn’t going to do either of them any good. He brought the axe down, trying not to wince as metal rushed towards Jack’s hands. When he felt it collide with something, everything too much of a blur for him to see clearly, he expected Jack to yell out in pain and he looked away, not able to cope with the sight of blood if it was him that had caused the injury.

Jack didn’t yell. Instead, he laughed. By some miracle of fate, the axe had sliced right down the centre of the handcuff chain, severing it and separating Jack’s hands. The first thing he did was pull Davey in for a fierce hug, brushing his thumb across his cheek and tilting his chin up for a kiss. Being tactile was second nature to him and not being able to touch Davey properly was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat.

Davey was laughing too, albeit a little shakily, unable to stop a few relieved tears from sliding down his cheeks as he put his head on Jack’s shoulder. If anything from the evening felt like an act of god, it was the axe not cutting bone or flesh. With one last kiss, Jack pulled away.

“We’re getting out of here. Now,” he said, hopping off the desk he’d been balancing on to stay out of the water. “Oh shit, this is cold,” he swore as he was surrounded by the freezing ocean. Davey just snorted, already heading for the door.

His first plan was to climb back up the nearest staircase up to D Deck and then head for the main staircase to take them up to the boat deck. Only the water had risen even higher during their escape attempt and it was now rushing in down the steps Davey had used. There was no way they could get up them against the tide.

“This is the way out,” he said mournfully.

Jack just took Davey’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction down the hall.  
“Not anymore. We have to find another way, come on,” he encouraged.

Davey was more than happy to comply. He liked not having to be the only one making decisions anymore, and he’d go anywhere with Jack.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translations at the end of the fic!

Walking with the tide of the water was far easier than trying to fight against it and, with the combination of that and having Jack at his side, Davey was starting to think that this might turn out okay.

With each step they took it got more and more obvious that the ship was listing badly. It was like walking uphill and, when they got to another set of stairs a little way down the corridor that had yet to be engulfed completely by the water, Davey gladly took Jack’s hand to be pulled up onto the first step. They scrambled up one flight and were relieved to be back on dry ground, even if they were both soaked and shivering and Jack still had a handcuff round each wrist. Alive and together seemed like a step up from everything that had happened.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, pulling Davey into a hug before checking him over. He had hated the idea of leaving him with Esther and Snyder, even if Sarah had been there to mitigate.

“I wasn’t the one arrested,” Davey pointed out.

Jack just hummed absently, still concerned. He gently turned Davey’s face to look at his cheek, the lines of a weak bruise starting to burgeon. In all of the drama of the handcuffs he hadn’t noticed the mark, but now he felt bile rise in his throat. Someone had hit him because of what they’d done.

“Dave…?” he asked, his voice shaky. He had to hear what had happened, even if it killed him to listen to it.  
“It’s nothing,” Davey mumbled, embarrassed. He turned away so his cheek wasn’t illuminated so clearly. Jack just waited, not giving up, and eventually he sighed and explained. “My mother... Only once. I’m fine, I promise.”

Jack’s expression went from concerned to a blaze of anger to sad, and he carefully stroked his thumb over the bruise before pressing a soft kiss to it. Davey’s skin tingled from the ministrations, the feeling overwhelming the dull ache that was still slowly fading. Now they weren’t surrounded by water it was easier to feel safe. Jack moved his kisses to Davey’s lips, peppering a trail down his jaw to get to them and reveling in the fact his hands were free to curl in Davey’s hair and find his hips.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, Jack,” Davey sighed, but even as he did he leaned forward for one last kiss. “Come on. We need to get up to the boat deck.”

Jack huffed indignantly but he took a step back to look around the room they’d climbed up into. It seemed to be a large supply cupboard of sorts, with cleaning supplies and exposed pipes, something passengers were never meant to see. Jack tried the door and groaned to find it locked from the outside. With a look down at the rising water climbing slowly up the stairs, it was obvious that there was no going back. Pushing up his sleeves, Jack turned back to the door. He had a lot of pent-up anger that had been brewing throughout the evening and he was looking forward to taking it out on something. If he imaged the door was Esther, capable of slapping her child and making his life a misery, then this wasn’t going to take long.

Davey stifled a laugh as Jack brought the door down with two swift kicks, splintering the wood until there was enough space for them to force their way out.

“Well it was this or swim for it,” Jack defended himself, shrugging. Davey wasn’t about to disagree.

They both tumbled out into a hallway of Second Class cabins, with stewards and passengers still vacating the rooms, and caused a startled gasp from the crowd - two bedraggled, water-soaked men, with Jack’s handcuffs clearly showing, was still a shock even with the current situation. He pushed his sleeves down awkwardly, hating the fact that someone had branded him a criminal so visibly for something so harmless. But the cuffs weren’t at the top of his list of problems.

A steward strode down the corridor to them, gawping at the damage they’d left. Davey couldn’t bring himself to care about one door when the entire ship was going down to the ocean floor, at least half the passengers with it.

“What’s this? What do you think you’re doing? That’s White Star Line property,” he accused.

Jack and Davey shared a look and continued determinedly down the corridor. There were more important things to deal with then a steward with skewed priorities.

“You’ll have to pay for that, you know,” he shouted after them.

That was the final straw. Turning round in sync, Jack and Davey yelled in sync.

“Shut up!”

They shared a grin and left the frazzled man behind them. Jack liked this side of Davey, the impulsive, passionate side that made his eyes sparkle and Jack’s heart beat faster. It suited him and he really hoped he’d get to see it more after they got out of this mess.

Second Class didn’t seem high up on the list of people to inform about the crisis and there was a clear lack of direction. People were packing up bags, some of them dressed from head to toe in as much warm clothing as they had with them and others only in pajamas. Everyone seemed confused, whispering things about icebergs and lifeboats and sinkings, but no one had the full story. A few people didn’t even have the first sentence. As they walked past a couple with a baby talking in fast, concerned French to each other, Davey just had to stop. The woman was crying and the baby seemed close to joining in. They didn’t deserve to die just because they couldn’t speak the language – he may as well make the Rich Boy childhood education worth something.

“Wait,” he mumbled to Jack, putting a hand on his arm.

He turned to the woman and smiled as reassuringly as he could. “ _Excusez moi! Je pourrais peut-être aider! Le bateau a heurté un iceberg; vous devez trouver un bateau de sauvetage. Ils embarquent les femmeset les enfants en ce moment. S'il vous plait, faites attention à votre famille_ ,” he said, his voice turning a little desperate near the end.

The woman just sniffled and nodded, forcing a smile in return. Her husband took Davey’s hands and squeezed them tightly.

“ _Dieu te protège mon garcon_ ,” he insisted earnestly, relieved to finally have some information.

Nodding, Davey took one last look at the baby and hoped they got a life beyond morning. When he turned back to Jack he found an open jaw and wide eyes.

“Hot,” Jack breathed, more impressed by Davey speaking fast French then he’d ever thought he could be by someone explaining a life or death situation. He didn’t even know what Davey had said but _god_ he wanted to hear more of it. Preferably sweet nothings whispered in his ear in between soft sheets in a dim room with hours of free time stretched out ahead of them and no one to walk in or lock them up for being in love.

Davey’s cheeks flushed, almost like he could hear the thoughts flicking through Jack’s mind, and he couldn’t help a little grin. It felt good to know Jack wanted him, but he much preferred that knowledge when they weren’t in a particularly time-sensitive situation surrounded by people who’d persecute them for so much as kissing.

“Not the time,” he hissed, but he was still smiling.

Davey looked around, trying to work out where he was on the ship. He wanted to help everyone but there wasn’t time. With more than 2000 souls on board, there was no point even trying. He just hoped that family would get through.

“This way,” Jack said, gesturing to a door right ahead of them.

His sense of direction wasn’t perfect when he’d hardly been free to walk around the ship at his leisure with a Steerage ticket, but he was almost certain that the door lead them exactly where they needed to be. He hurried them along and prayed this one was going to be open, because he didn’t think he could kick a solid metal door from its hinges. Thankfully, this door swung out and a chilled night’s air rushed in, making their soaked clothes feel even colder.

Stepping out onto the Third Class deck where they’d first heard the alarm be raised, Jack was shocked at just how much had happened in so little time. The ship was visibly listing, with water lapping at the other end of the deck and slowly creeping further up. It was like standing on a hill and he knew they had to get further away from the tide.

Aiming to get up to the boats and see what was going on, Jack headed for the ladder they’d climbed only a little while earlier. The metal rungs were cold under his hands and the tilt of the sinking ship was working against them but eventually he pulled himself up onto the small outside space on B Deck, reaching down to haul Davey up beside him. There were six or seven men roaming the space but not one of them even glanced over as Jack and Davey hurried to the side to look out at the chaos that was spilling into the ocean. The titters of inconvenience Davey had heard up on the boat deck earlier had turned into shouts and yells, with loud wailing cutting above the din. Flares were still going off intermittently, signaling to an empty ocean, and people were throwing deckchairs and tables overboard. Far down towards the back of the ship people were still scrambling into lifeboats, the crowd near the railings pulsing and moving like one entity throwing forward remaining women and children for a place on the boats. As they watched the scene in silence, a gunshot rang out from somewhere on the other side of the ship. Jack automatically put himself between Davey and the noise, reaching back to link their fingers together.

“Jack, we shouldn’t. People will see,” Davey sighed, trying to pull his hand back. He didn’t want to, but the last thing they needed was for someone to cuff them both.

Jack held firm, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.  
“There ain’t many good things about a crisis, but the fact no one notices two men holdin’ hands is definitely one’a them,” he explained. He was pretty sure he could push Davey against a wall and kiss him senseless and no one would bat an eyelid. When it was life and death, no one thought about anyone but themselves. But the kissing theory should probably stay untested, just in case.

Keeping hold of Davey’s hand, Jack tugged him over to another set of steps. Two more flights got them up to the boat deck, as far away from the water as they could get. It was busier up there, with men lining up at the railings to wave to wives and children in boats far down below in an attempt to reassure them that everything would be okay.

“The boats are gone,” Davey pointed out, his hope dwindling a little. He tightened his grip on Jack’s hand.

Frowning, Jack leaned out over the side for a better look. The lifeboats at the stern of the ship still seemed to be loading and he was determined to find Davey a place on one of them somehow.

“You gotta go,” he said sadly, knowing Davey had a far better chance at survival if he was with his family. They had money and status and if that wasn’t useful in a situation like this, then when was it.

“What? I can’t!” Davey protested, horrified at the idea. They hadn’t gotten through all of this to split up at the very end. It was all or nothing, both of them or neither of them.

Jack didn’t see it the same way.  
“Davey, ya gotta go to your family. Find them,” he begged.

He might hate Esther but he was hoping that she’d care enough about her son to keep him safe. Willingly sending Davey back to someone who had caused the red mark on his cheek had his stomach churning, but Sarah would be there and Mayer was a damn sight more tolerable than his wife. He might get an earful from his mother, but Davey would be alive to tell the tale.

“Not without you,” Davey was adamant.   
“I ain’t allowed, you know that,” Jack sighed, taking Davey’s other hand and fighting the urge to kiss the back of it. Esther would have his head and he couldn’t imagine her accepting Davey if he was at his side.  
“Then I’m staying right here, thank you,” Davey decided firmly.

“You’re an idiot, Dave,” Jack groaned, tipping his head back as far as his neck would bend. He’d fallen in love with the least selfish man he’d ever met and it was endearing, but it was also infuriating when he just wanted to put Davey’s safety above everything else.

“You care more about me than they do,” Davey reasoned. He’d rather die with Jack than live with his mother. “Where you go, I go.” He risked a quick kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth. What did it matter if they were going to die anyway?

Jack forced a sad smile. If they died before morning then they’d had at least had six hours of time together. Even if the ship had been doomed from the start, he’d met Davey on board and that was worth everything. And he still wasn’t giving up. He looked around for something, _anything_ , that was going to up their chances. A single discarded life belt caught his eye, kicked to the side and forgotten in the chaos. Swiping it, Jack handed it to Davey.

“Put this on, at least,” he said.

Davey took the lifebelt and frowned at it. “I can swim.”

“I remember,” Jack laughed despite himself -  the night they met felt like years ago, “but it ain’t about bein’ able to swim. It’s about when you get too tired to keep yourselfs afloat,” he explained. It could be hours before another ship turned up and while they were more likely to die from the cold than anything else, it at least helped with one of the mounting problems.

Davey fiddled with the ties on the belt for a moment before looking about skeptically.

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

“Dave, put it on,” Jack pleaded, taking the lifebelt back and putting it over Davey’s head, tying the ribbons at his sides. “I’ll find one soon.”

Or at least he’d try. It was just one more problem.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of the French (by mllemensonges on tumblr, who saved my ass from Google Translate - thank youuuuuu!):
> 
> “Excuse me, I may be able to help? The ship had struck an iceberg; you need to get to a lifeboat. They’re currently loading women and children first. Please, keep your family safe.”
> 
> “God protect you, my son.”


	23. Chapter 23

The boat deck was crowded with passengers, no one enforcing class boundaries now it was becoming obvious that a lot of people were going to die. Davey held tightly to Jack’s hand as they wove through people, pushing down to where there were still boats loading. The orchestra that had been playing at dinner in the First Class dining room had set up to the side of the crowd, playing some upbeat classical music that Jack couldn’t name.

“Music to drown by. Now I know I’m in First Class,” he mumbled under his breath, making sure Davey didn’t hear him. People on the ship were going to die because they had less money than others, and that just wasn’t right. Money wasn’t even going to save Davey, so what was it good for. And music definitely wasn’t going to save anyone.

If Jack had it his way, they’d be asleep by now. There wouldn’t be handcuffs around his wrists, they’d have found somewhere safe where Esther couldn’t get to Davey, and they’d been cosied up under a blanket with Davey’s head on his chest and their hands clasped together and resting on Jack’s stomach. It was all he wanted for the rest of his life but right now he’d take just one night of it. Instead, they had this hellish nightmare.

When they got to the few remaining lifeboats there was a crowd of people gathered around each one, clearly far more bodies than there were seats for. Jack winced at the sight - so many innocent people were going to die. They stopped on the fringes of the group where there was less shoving going on.

“Women and children to the lifeboats. Women and children first,” an officer shouted above the dull cacophony from his audience.

“That’s not us,” Davey sighed, resting his forehead against Jack’s shoulder and trying to block out everything that was happening.

“No, it ain’t,” Jack agreed sadly. He nudged Davey gently so he could look into his tearful, big blue eyes. “Ya could still make it, you know. Young, First Class. Even if yous is a guy. Ya got a better chance than me,” he explained.

Davey sniffed back tears and shook his head resolutely.  
“We make it together, or we don’t make it at all,” he said firmly, squeezing Jack’s hand.

“Dave, this is serious. This is life or death,” Jack insisted.

There was a part of him that selfishly wanted to keep Davey with him forever, but he had to be realistic about this. If Davey was with him he was far more likely to end up dead, and that was the last thing he wanted. Only Davey wasn’t voluntarily going anywhere.  
“I know. _I know_ ,” Davey groaned, hiding his face against Jack’s shoulder again and forcing himself not to cry over the life he never got to have. He didn’t care if people saw, he didn’t care if people tutted or shouted or judged. He just wanted to be held by the man he loved before they both died. That didn’t seem like too much to ask from the universe at this point.

Jack got it. He didn’t feel much like letting Davey go either so he pulled him in for a proper hug and brushed his lips against Davey’s cheek as he did. It was as close to a kiss as he dared to go. Another gunshot sounded out, this one far closer, and Davey jumped involuntarily. Jack held him tighter.

When the officer spoke again his voice was harried and afraid.

“Women and children! Any more women and children!” he yelled out, wavering but standing strong against the wall of men in front of him who were getting increasingly desperate for a place on a lifeboat.

“Daddy!” a little girl cried, fighting against her father’s grip as he stepped forward with her in his arms.

“Pass her to me,” a woman offered, holding out her arms and accepting the toddler before tucking her into an empty seat on the boat.  
“It’s only goodbye for a little while,” her father called out, tears choking his words. “There’ll be another boat soon for the daddies, this one is for the women and children.”

His words were clearly a lie and everyone around knew it, with uncomfortable shivers spreading through the crowd. Still, no one said anything as the man comforted his daughter with empty words and pre-broken promises.

With a look around that told him there were no more women and children in the immediate vicinity, the officer gave the order to lower the life boat. Davey ignored the disappointed murmurs going around the crowd of men and wriggled through the crowd to look down at the boats rowing away, scanning them for a sign of Sarah or Medda or his father or, god, even his mother. He just wanted to know that someone he knew was getting out of this alive.  
It was no use. Everyone that far down just looked like insects, escaping from a trap. He couldn’t tell Sarah from Eve. Curling his fingers over the railings, Davey concentrated hard on not letting his lower lip wobble. Just as he was about to turn back and find Jack to cling to again for some semblance of comfort, the crowd behind him surged forward. He had no idea what had caused the sudden movement but it unbalanced him and knocked him over the edge. For a moment he was in freefall, tumbling through a step of space without even caring what he hit. He was so sure that he was going to die that night anyway, what did it matter how it happened. Everything seemed to slow down, with Jack’s fearful shout chasing him. When he finally hit something, it was the hard edge of the lifeboat and it knocked the wind out of him. He automatically scrambled backwards before he slipped down the space between the ship and the boat. There were shrieks from behind as the woman hurried to pull him up into the lifeboat and shouts from above as men complained he’d jumped on purpose.

As soon as Davey was safely inside the lifeboat, sat in an empty seat, he looked up in search of Jack. He was stood right at the edge of the railing, staring right back at him with despair and hope in his eyes. It was torture to watch Davey go, but the best sight he’d ever seen to watch him get safe. Jack was in love, and that meant there were just too many emotions involved, but if Davey was safe, everything was going to be fine. With one sharp nod, he tried to tell Davey it was all okay. That he needed to stay put and survive this thing.

“Count yourself lucky, son,” the woman beside Davey said, patting him gently on the shoulder.

He couldn’t see how it was lucky. The person he loved more than anything in the world, the one who made him feel like he was worth something, was still on a ship that was on its way to the bottom of the ocean. That wasn’t luck, that was hell. He watched Jack up there alone urging to him to stay put and wanted more than anything to be back in his arms.

The order was given to lower the boat again and Davey felt himself get further and further away. He watched the winches as they screeched as if in pain, ropes pulled taut with the weight of the boat. Flares lit up the night sky behind Jack as crying children were comforted by crying mothers, with every gap in between wails filled with mumbled prayers. The only thing Davey prayed for now was Jack, and staying put definitely wasn’t going to get him that. If he got out of this alive but without Jack, there was nothing for him. He wouldn’t go back to his parents, he couldn’t even stay in contact with Sarah if he wanted to be safe. It would just be him, alone, against the world, and he couldn’t live like that.

“No. No, no!” he complained, struggling to his feet and scrambling over the other lifeboat passengers until he could clamber over the edge of the boat. He could just about reach the covered first class promenade on A Deck, ignoring the shrieks from the women around him.

“Davey! Dave! What are you doing?” Jack shouted down, banging on the railings and begging Davey to get back into his seat.

Pulling himself through a window onto the promenade and leaving the lifeboat behind him, Davey hit the ground running. The only thing on his mind was getting back where he belonged. His feet pounded the deck as he sped to the staircase that would take him back up to Jack, elbowing anyone in his way aside. He tugged the door to the foyer open and staggered inside, coming to a brief halt when he saw Jack stood on the steps looking afraid. Davey took the steps two at a time to barrel into his arms, letting the tears fall from his eyes.  
“Davey! That was your chance. You’re so stupid,” Jack complained, hugging him tightly before kissing him desperately because, fuck it, things couldn’t get worse.   
“Not without you. Please,” Davey mumbled, his words muffled by Jack’s shoulder as gentle kisses were pressed to his hair. They were in this together, whether they lived or died.


	24. Chapter 24

Jack resisted the urge to stroke over the darkening bruises Davey had gotten on his arms when he’d collided with the edge of the lifeboat, hating that he was so marked by the evening. They’d all but abandoned the idea of not being close in public. If they were going to die because of White Star Line negligence, then they deserved the right to hold hands on the ship before it went down. Those left in the stairwell seemed less convinced and there were more than a few stares but Jack pointedly ignored them as he kissed Davey again. He was relieved to have him back in his arms and, as guilty as he felt about the selfish feeling, he couldn’t quash it.

“I couldn’t go. I couldn’t go, Jack,” Davey babbled, still holding on to him tightly.   
“It’s alright. We’ll think’a somethin’,” Jack promised. He knew the words were empty, but he still wasn’t about to sit down and wait to die. They were fighting until the bitter end – he didn’t know how to survive any other way.  
“I just needed to stay with you,” Davey said, half laughing half crying. The night was turning him a little delirious.

He knew it was stupid to be so invested in what was barely even a relationship. He’d only known Jack a couple of days and they hadn’t exactly had a period of stability to work out if they were well matched together. All he was certain of was that there was something that just felt right about Jack. He was irrevocably home.

Jack didn’t have anything to add, pulling Davey in for another long hug that he planned to be the last before they had to put tactility aside in favour of survival. As he opened his eyes, ready to pull away and brainstorm a plan, he looked up. He expected to perhaps find someone else glaring at them for being too intimate in the middle of the foyer, maybe tutting or whispering about them. Instead he found Snyder, pointing a revolver at them with a clear intent to shoot.

Moving fast, without even giving Davey an explanation, he grabbed his hand and yanked him away the spot they’d been standing in, ducking down to reduce Snyder’s target.

“Come on!” he yelled, pushing him ahead of himself towards the stairs in attempt to shield Davey from a bullet.

Even without having seen Snyder and having no idea what was happening, Davey trusted Jack. If he said they had to run further down into the ship, he trusted him. When a gun shot rang out behind him, shattering the wooden stair rail decoration next to his head, Davey knew he’d made a good decision. He caught sight of Snyder out of the corner of his eye and suddenly his heart was in his throat. Had his mother ordered him shot? Just because he’d invited a boy into his bed? Or had Snyder just gone rogue? Either way he was certain that nothing he’d done mandated a death sentence. Making sure Jack was close, Davey skidded across the foyer and almost threw himself down the flight of stairs. He’d never had a gun pointed at him before but it was terrifying. As much as the ship sinking had him afraid, it was a different kind of fear. It was slow, with enough time to strategise and try to find a way out. It involved a choice of how you died. A loaded gun was different. It was heart pounding in your ears, no choice, no way out fear. Whether he lived or died was in someone else’s hands. Whether _Jack_ lived or died was in someone else’s hands.

“The ship is sinkin’ and he’s makin’ time to shoot at us because we went to bed together,” Jack growled under his breath as they took another flight of stairs. Another shot slammed into the floor by his foot and he swore. He would never understand people like Snyder.

The more flights they went down, the fewer people there were around. Especially when they heard the bullets. Risking a quick look down the centre of the staircase, Jack gulped. The next floor down was already flooded, but Snyder was still right behind him with a gun and they had no other choice. They had more chance of living facing water than bullets, so they kept going down.

Davey gasped as they ran into the water, still not used to the cold even now. Involuntary shivers ran up his back and he fought his muscles’ urge to spasm as he struggled not to fall. Showers of sparks rained down from the ceiling, fizzling out as they hit the floods. They couldn’t worry too much about to avoid them, avoiding the bullets had to be the priority – they were far more lethal.

Snyder shot twice more in quick succession, the bullets slamming though the water and making waves. Davey was jumping out of his skin with each bang but Jack was careful to keep himself between Davey and Snyder. If they got shot in the back it wouldn’t be Davey getting hurt, he was going to make sure of that.

When there was a click behind them but no bang, Jack risked a look over his shoulder. Snyder was swearing at the gun, hitting it against his hand and flicking the trigger incessantly. He was out of bullets. Jack grinned, but he didn’t stop running. Just because Snyder couldn’t shoot them didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt them and Jack still wanted to get as far as way as possible.

“I hope you enjoy your time together,” Snyder snarled bitterly.

Jack reached back and gave him the finger. If he had it his way then he and Davey were going to have a _very_ enjoyable life together.

The ship was tipping so badly that running through the D Deck Second Class dining room was an exercise in hiking practice. It was a relief to be back out of the water but there was no time to celebrate. Jack was pulling Davey up by the hand, their soaked clothes dragging them back and their shoes squelching against the carpet. Davey was starting to feel like he’d never be dry again. All he wanted was a warm bath and some soft pajamas – it felt like this night from hell had been going on since forever and it wasn’t over yet.

They headed for a room that seemed to exist solely to store a wall of plates, passing through until they ducked into a crew stairwell. It didn’t have the luxury of the stairs used by the passengers, with no wood and no carpet runner. Keeping quiet, they bunkered down and listened for footsteps outside. Other than the steady drips of water from their clothing and hair colliding with the steps and the steel of the ship groaning under the added weight of the water inside it, there was only silence.

When it didn’t seem like they were still being chased, Davey relaxed a little. He let himself breathe again, trying to fill his lungs back up after the run. Jack was pressed closed against him but for once Davey wasn’t thinking about kissing. It really wasn’t the time. It was nice to have some form of physical comfort though, so he rested his head on Jack’s shoulder as he took deep breaths. He’d never been shot at before and it wasn’t an experience he was in a rush to repeat.

Jack wasn’t sure how long they should wait – it was a trade out between not getting caught in the flood and not getting caught by Snyder. When he heard plates colliding together as the water rose to lift the breakfast crockery from the table linen that had been laid out for passengers who would never get to eat off of it on a morning the ship would never see, Jack knew it was time to go. Just as he started to formulate some kind of plan that didn’t involve going back the way they’d come, they heard screaming from the floor below, carrying through up the stairs. It sounded worryingly like a child and Jack turned instinctively towards the noise. He and Davey exchanged a worried look – no one else should be down this low in the ship, not now.  

“DADA!” the voice screamed, and Davey raced down the stairs with Jack close behind.

A little boy in a woolen coat, no older than seven, was stood in front of a closed door with a tiny suitcase by his side. He seemed completely alone, screaming and crying but standing still as if he had no idea where to run to. There were a few inches of water swirling around his ankles but the door behind him was close to buckling on its hinges, water spilling from the edges of the frame. They had a few minutes, moments even, before the force of the water shattered the wood.

“We can’t leave him,” Davey said, terrified.

Jack nodded. He turned back to check the stairs they’d just left but there was already a steady stream of water rushing down the steps. They had to find an option two, and fast.

“Come on,” Jack deciding, running forward to grab the kid. As he got closer he could hear the groaning of the door and he knew they didn’t have long until it unleashed a tidal wave down the corridor. He turned back to Davey and forced a laugh to lighten the mood.

“This ain’t how I imagined I’d end up with a kid,” he joked, and Davey had to reward the pitiful effort with a smile.

Just as they were about to head up the corridor, a man ran towards them. Yelling angrily in a language that sounded more like Russian than anything else to Davey, he grabbed the boy from Jack’s arms, pushing him back so hard in the process that Jack stumbled against the wall. Jack was more than happy for the boy to be back with his father – he was struggling with the logistics of keeping both himself and Davey safe and hadn’t been particularly looking forward to factoring the kid in – but the man started to run straight towards the door that was about to burst.

“No! Come back!” Davey shouted desperately. He didn’t want this boy and his father to be another avoidable casualty so easily.

“That’s the wrong way,” Jack protested, but before he could say anything else the door splintered under the force of the water.

The man and the boy were immediately swept up, disappearing into the foam of the waves with gurgled screams. Jack grabbed Davey’s arm and they were running again. They ducked into a corridor to avoid the worst of the wave but it raced after them, chasing them with just as much deadly intent as Snyder. The lights in the corridor were flickering on and off, leaving them with brief moments of vision that never allowed their eyes to focus quite right as sparks exploded from light fixtures. Despite the adrenaline in their veins, they couldn’t outrun it.

Water weaved around Davey’s legs and suddenly the force was too strong to hold up against. His knees buckled and he was swept along by the current, plunged into the icy flood. Jack grabbed his arm as he tumbled down beside him, keeping them together, and they both fought to keep their heads about the surface.

They were slammed against a closed grate before they even saw it, hitting it hard so Davey blacked out for a second until suddenly there was a hand behind his head, lifting it away from the grate so it wouldn’t be forced against the metal as the water kept coming. Jack shifted his body until he was shielding Davey from as much of the intensity of the water as he could, wincing when pieces of broken furniture hit him in the back. With the hand that wasn’t in Davey’s hair, he reached round to try and tug open the grate, but the padlock on it wasn’t moving anytime soon.

Davey wanted to protest that he didn’t need Jack to protect him from bullets or torrential rapids but now, whilst he was coughing and spluttering, didn’t seem like the time for the conversation. They could deal with Jack’s apparent hero complex later. He just kicked to keep his head above the water, wondering if there was even a way for them to get out of this one.


	25. Chapter 25

The water forcing them against the grate didn’t seem to be relenting and Jack knew there was no way through without a key that they didn’t have. Turning his head and spitting out the mouthful of water that he ended up with in the process, Jack looked for plan b. Registering the staircase a couple of metres down the hallway, he knew it was their only option. They just had to fight against the current to get there.

“This way,” he said pushing off from the grate.

It wasn’t too difficult to reach up and grab one of the pipes that run along the ceiling, even with the water pulling him back. As soon as he had his arm wrapped around it securely he reached back to grab Davey’s hand and haul him along to the same pipe. From there they dragged themselves through the flood, making use of the pipes and rivets to inch their way down the hall. It was painfully slow progress, especially considering their time was limited, but it was that or wait to die. Finally, Jack could hook his ankle round the doorway to the staircase and launch across the current to end up sprawled on the steps. It hurt but at least he was still breathing.

“Give me your hand!” he shouted over the noise of the water, pulling Dave into the stairwell after him and cushioning his fall against the steps.

The water was rising fast at their feet and they quickly scrambled up the stairs. When Jack realised there was another grate at the top, he prayed that it would be unlocked. They hadn’t done anything wrong to be so badly punished by fate.

One pull on the grate proved the worst to be true. Fear boiled into anger in Jack’s veins and he slammed the grate hard with his shoulder but it barely even moved the metal. It was tempting to kick and punch and fight but he knew it was useless, and he was going to need that energy if they got out of this. The only way through was with a key.

“Oh god,” Davey whispered, coming to the same conclusion as Jack at the same moment. “Jack, I-”

“This ain’t goodbye,” Jack said roughly, cutting him off.

He didn’t want to hear last _I love you_ s. He wanted them to survive. But even as he gave Davey a forced attempt at a reassuring smile, water was swirling around their ankles. It has filled up the entire staircase and they had minutes, seconds even, until there was no space left to breathe.

“HELP!” Jack yelled, the fear evident in his voice. He was certain there would be no one stupid enough to still be so far down below decks, but it was their only option.

“Jack please,” Davey begged him to listen. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I-”

“No,” Jack promised. “Still happenin’ to you. Not past tense. This ain’t the end.”  
He gave up on conserving energy and starting pulling and shoving at the grate, trying to force it open with everything he had. Davey joined in, dragging the grate in the opposite direction to Jack in an attempt to pry the panels apart, but they didn’t move an inch.

The water was up to their waists. Just as Jack was about to give up and let Davey get out those last sentimental words before kissing him until it was the last thing he did, footsteps came down the hallway. A steward was scrambling down the corridor, heading for the flight of stairs just across from Jack and Davey. He did a double take when he saw the two men trapped behind the screen and skidded to a halt. After a second’s thought, he started towards the steps again.

“Wait, Sir! Wait, open the gate! Please,” Jack urged.

“Please, help us!” Davey added. He stepped a little apart from Jack, not wanting it to be obvious that they were together. This man clearly didn’t need another reason to leave them to die. Taking the cue, Jack made sure his sleeves were covering the cuffs round his wrists.

The steward turned, clearly torn between conscience and self-preservation. He took one step up the stairs to B deck before risking one last look over his shoulder. The men weren’t passengers he recognised, looking bedraggled enough that he was certain they were probably on board with Steerage tickets. Whatever kind of night they’d had, it had clearly been rough. There were tears to their clothes and they were sodden from head to toe; one of them had a suspicious red mark to his cheek, like he’d been slapped hard and recently. Whoever they were, they weren’t of decent stock. But they still deserved a chance.

“Bloody hell,” he swore to himself, grabbing for his keys and rushing over to the grate.

Sorting through the selection on the ring, he tried to find the one that would open the grate. The lock was brass but so were half a dozen of the keys and none of them seemed to fit when he tried to force them into the lock with shaking fingers and water climbing up around his legs.

“Come on, hurry!” Jack insisted, losing his patience. They were all going to end up dead at this rate.

The man nodded, barely listening, and tried another key. When it didn’t work he fumbled with the ring to find another. It slipped through his fingers and down into the water at his feet.

He stared down after it, watching the lives of these men disappear into the flood.

“I’m sorry, I dropped the keys,” he admitted, his voice cracking.

With that, he turned and fled up the stairs, not wanting to risk another moment down below decks.

“Wait! No!” Davey cried out.  
“You can’t leave us!” Jack shouted, pulling roughly on the grate.

The man didn’t turn back and, now they were alone again, Jack pulled Davey in for a desperate kiss. His promise to keep them alive was drowning.

Giving himself exactly three seconds with Davey, Jack stepped away just as the C Deck lights went out. Knowing they were almost out of time, he made one last attempt. Taking a deep breath, he dove below the surface and he kicked down to the bottom of the grate. He could barely see in the flickering darkness, pushing his hand between the bars and feeling around blindly. It felt like a hopeless mission and within seconds his lungs were burning, desperate for oxygen. He was about to swim back up so he could be with Davey, but then his fingers brushed against metal. Pulling the ring of keys though the bars, he resurfaced triumphant but with no time to celebrate.

“Which one is it?” he asked, spreading the keys out on his hand so they could both see their choices.

Davey pushed his hand through the grate to feel for the lock, attempting to gauge the size of the key hole.  
“Try the small one,” he suggested, unsure but knowing one of them had to make a decision.

Selecting the smallest brass key, Jack bent his arm through the bars to force it into the lock.

“Come on,” he mumbled to himself, water up to his shoulders. If this didn’t work, that was the end.  
“Please Jack,” Davey pleaded, no idea what he was even asking for anymore.   
“It’s stuck,” Jack groaned, trying to move his arm into a better position to turn the key and wincing when the movement pulled at his bruised shoulder.

The water was rushing in faster now, around their heads. Neither of them could reach the floor as they kicked to keep themselves above the surface and struggled to avoid swallowing waves. With one final turn, Jack got the lock to click open. He pulled the grate apart and practically shoved Davey through, desperate to get him safe, before following after him, using the last gulps of air left from the staircase.

Davey swam upwards, gasping for air between the pipes in the corridor before taking another plunge to get under the final pipe so he could breathe normally in the next staircase up.

“Jack?! Jack?!” he shouted, as soon as he had enough oxygen in his lungs to form words.

C Deck was an infinite mass of darkness, ready to consume the ship room by room, and there wasn’t a single sign of life from it. No movement below the water, no bubbles of breath. Davey just waited, trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea to dive into the open jaws and let himself be swallowed back down to bring Jack up with him. He wasn’t moving on, that much was certain. He couldn’t go up another step without Jack by his side. They got out of this together, or they didn’t get out of it at all.

Just as Davey was about to wade back in, Jack surfaced, spluttering a little but alive. Relief warmed Davey’s frostbitten fingers as he reached out to link them with Jack’s. He wasn’t ever letting go.

“Come on,” he encouraged, pulling Jack to his feet and up the stairs. They were above the water for now, but it was racing them fast. They had to get back to the boat deck.  
It was a blissfully easy journey up to A Deck, with no more grates in their way. Their clothes were heavy and chilled their bones with each step but they’d left the water behind them and that was enough of a relief to keep them going. Davey just wasn’t sure how long they had before they were going to be back beneath the waves, with no way out.

They didn’t see another soul until they reached to the First Class lounge, only one floor below the boat deck. Through the misted windows, Davey could see passengers outside on the promenade. He recognised the signs of panic in their silhouettes and knew for certain that the lifeboats were all gone. All that was left was the ship itself, and that didn’t have long.

Passing through into the Reading and Writing Room, they almost ran into a figure stood in front of the small clock on the mantle, checking it’s time against his pocket watch. Jack just stepped to the side, continuing up the slope of the floor towards the door. But Davey stopped. He knew this man.

“Wait,” he called after Jack, taking a step towards the mantle. “Mr. Andrews?”

Thomas Andrews looked up, surprised to hear his name called. When he recognised the boy stood before him, his heart broke.

“Oh David,” he sighed, desolate.

He had hoped the young man would have found his way onto a lifeboat long ago. From the times they’d talked at dinner and out on the deck, David was a fine gentleman. He looked a little worse for wear, but the fear in his eyes was unmissable and Thomas felt like part of the guilt for it being there belonged to him.

“Won’t you even make a try for it?” Davey asked, hopeful. He understood there was honour in going down with the ship, but it didn’t have to end like this.

Shaking his head, Thomas stayed put. He would be the last person on board to step onto a life boat or take the place of a passenger, and he knew he that meant he would end up among the dead. It seemed pointless to fight it.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t build you a stronger ship, young David,” he said, resting a hand on Davey’s shoulder for a moment.

“It’s going fast. We gotta go,” Jack reminded, hating to interrupt but needing to get them moving again.

Davey reached for Jack’s hand automatically, ready to start running again. The movement had Thomas’ eyes widening in surprise and Davey realised that he’d never known why he was on the ship. With a look between the two young men, Thomas offered a nod. This other boy, he was the one who had joined them for a night in First Class. The Steerage boy who had saved Davey’s life and who had made him smile all evening. He’d been charming and genuine, if a little rough around the edges. It was a good match.

“Good luck to you, David,” Mr Andrews said, in the place of a goodbye he couldn’t bring himself to put into word.  
“And to you,” Davey nodded, trying not to cry as Jack tugged him gently away.

As Davey and Jack left the room, Mr Andrews reached out and opened the glass cover to the clock, adjusting the time by a fraction of a minute. _02:06 am_.


	26. Chapter 26

When they stepped out onto the boat deck, Davey’s first instinct was to shy away. It was chaos plain and simple and he just wanted it to all be over. He wasn’t even sure he cared how it ended anymore, he didn’t have the mental capacity to visualize beyond sunrise; he just wanted to stop running from water that didn’t care who it killed and men who wanted to kill him just because he was happy.

There were people everywhere, more people than Davey had ever seen aboard, all scrambling and falling and pushing to get towards the back of the ship. Still women, still children, not in lifeboats but here, fighting for their lives along the men who outnumbered them. He heard a cacophony of screams and turned to see a life boat still unlaunched down where the ship now met the sea, passengers spilling out as the water caught up with it and people desperately trying to cut it free. He didn’t even want to imagine the horrors below decks as people were trapped in areas filling fast with water.

Jack looked around at the mayhem that the ship had dissolved into and tried to think through this logically. The life boats were gone and, from the looks of their lights, they were already too far out to swim for. He wasn’t even sure they would have let them on board had they made it there. It was clear no other ship was coming to help anytime soon, so it was a matter of surviving for the longest time possible. Which meant they had to be out of the water until the very last second.

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Davey’s hand.  
“Where?” Davey asked, happy to go but wanting to be in on any grand idea Jack might have to get them out of this alive. It wasn’t looking good.

“I have… A plan might be too generous,” Jack sighed. It was hardly fully thought through. “An idea. This ship is sinkin’, no doubt about it. And we’re goin’ down with it. We just gotta survive as long as we can out there, until someone comes to help.”

Davey stopped in his tracks. _Freezing temperature. Pain beyond imagination._ That’s what Jack had said a lifetime ago. It had talked Davey back from the edge of a precipice then, and right now it was making him regret ever getting on a ship.  
“It’s cold. You told me, it’s so cold,” he frowned, clasping Jack’s hand tighter. They didn’t even have coats on, not that it would help in the water. The floods that had spilled into the ship had been bad enough, brutal but brief and probably warmed slightly by the residual heat of the boilers that Davey had to assume were long extinguished. The ocean itself would be even colder and he had no idea when, or if, they’d ever be getting out of it.  
“It is,” Jack grimaced, confirming all of Davey’s fears. “But we ain’t got another choice.”

___

They joined the rat race away from the water, a hive mind swarm that was all heading up. The listing of the ship was so bad that Davey was staggering along the deck. It had become a contest for survival and in order to win it, someone else had to lose. People were pushing and shoving, barely taking notice as they knocked others out the way and over the edge. Jack kept him close, refusing to be separated in the crowds as they wove through, ducking into any available gap. There would only be room for so many people on the back deck where he was heading and they had to get there before everyone else.

“We’ve got to stay on the ship as long as possible,” he explained, dodging around an elderly man and his wife.

Davey just nodded, not wasting his breath on the words.

When they reached a rail, they had no choice but to stop and look down. The Third Class promenade deck was between them and the ship’s stern and they had to get down to cross it. The tiny ladder that usually lead down was backed up with people, no one forming an orderly queue and everyone shoving to get to the front. But even when they did, the First Class ladies climbing down who had clearly never been on a ladder in their lives were taking time that they didn’t have.

“Here,” Jack said, climbing up onto the railings and helping Davey over and down onto a platform just below. He followed afterwards, clambering down onto the deck and reaching up to grab Davey’s waist until they were both on the base of one of the electric cranes than swung over the Third Class promenade. There were no steps down from here either and Davey leapt down the metre or two fall, stumbling as he was shoved on the decent and landing on his knees. A stranger helped him quickly to his feet, rushing away as fast as they’d arrived and leaving Davey on his own.  
“Jack?!” he shouted, turning round fast in the crowd as it pushed against him, looking for that face he’d come to know so well. His heart was thumping fast in his ears. He couldn’t do this alone.

Suddenly there was a hand on his wrist and he found himself looking into Jack’s concerned eyes. With a nod of _I’m fine_ , they started running again.

When he heard whipping noises behind him, Davey couldn’t help but turn. The cables that had been holding up the funnels were snapping, lashing across the water and whoever was unfortunate enough to be in its way. He closed his eyes to turn away, unable to watch, only to open them again to look for the source of a dull creaking, sounding loud and low above the enduring din of screams. The now cable-less funnel was buckling under its own weight, the metal bending like thin wire as the whole thing slammed into the water, crushing those below and sending out a tidal wave.

There was no time to mourn the already dead when you were fighting not to join them. The crowds on the promenade were body to body, all probably doomed to die but none of them willing to just sit there and accept it. Davey followed the path Jack carved through the pack, never letting go of his hand. He despaired at those who had packed suitcases and were still desperately clinging to them as if they were going to be any use to a corpse. All they were doing was getting in the way.

When all the lights on the ship faded to black for a moment, a fresh scream echoed round the deck.

“Nobody panic!” one man’s voice sounded above the rest and Jack just rolled his eyes and glared as they shuffled round him in the crowd. If there was ever a time fit for one to panic, they’d found it alright.

They made it to the stairs the other side of the deck and Jack pushed Davey up first, making sure he was okay. The single file system that had to be enforced on account of how narrow the steps were wasn’t really working out.

“- Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” the man in front of them recited, looking up to the stars.   
“You want to walk a little faster through that valley there?” Jack asked impatiently, wriggling past Davey to force the man up the stairs faster.

They’d made it up onto the rear deck and Jack had to breathe a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. They hurried to the edge of the ship to look back and Davey fought the urge to cry out. They were dozens of metres in the air, with the propellers now up out of the water as people fell that long, long way down into the ocean below as they were pushed overboard by someone who wanted their space just a little bit more.  
Jack winced but there was no point dwelling on the people he couldn’t save. Davey was his priority now. Turning to lead them further towards the back of the ship, Jack came face to face with a minister holding on to a railing as he recited prayers, his other hand extending to a chain of people all crying and crossing themselves. It was useless, Jack knew, there was no way any god was saving anyone now. He pushed past them and kept running up the steep deck, using railings and poles to pull both him and Davey up as gravity started to fight against them. Davey felt his shoes start to slide underneath him as they got towards the very back of the ship, but Jack never let go.

“Come on! Come on,” he encouraged, until they were at the rear railings.

There were already people clinging on and Jack fought for the last space. Now was the time to be selfish. He hooked his arm around the railing, making sure Davey did the same before pulling him closely to him to make up for the lack of room and to ensure he was safe.

The lights on the ship flickered again, sparking the same wave of noise, as the ship got closer and closer to vertical, Davey’s feet slipping beneath him as he grabbed Jack tighter.

“It’ll be over soon. It’ll all be over soon,” a voice whispered softly beside them, and Davey turned to see a young mother, barely older than himself, cradling a child to her chest as she clung into the railing. They were both crying.

Davey turned away, not able to bear the sight, and buried his face against Jack’s shoulder. They were surrounded by people who were going to die. They were probably going to die themselves. He might be hearing the last words people ever said, sharing their last breaths, and it was a lot to handle. Looking up to take in Jack’s face, something occurred to him.

“Jack?” he said, smiling through the beginning on tears. “This is where we first met.” He managed a small laugh. It was all so long ago.

Looking back with a conflict of emotions in his eyes, Jack hugged Davey tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He was determined for this not to be the last place they met too.


	27. Chapter 27

More and more people were clawing their way up the deck, fighting against the incline. When someone grabbed Davey’s ankle to pull themselves up, he kicked out automatically to stop himself being tugged downwards. If it had been a regular night where he’d been in his right mind he would never have pushed someone away who was just trying to survive the same as he was, but in the moment his fear of facing death outweighed his common sense. He hated the idea that he was losing his morality, his humanity, but his survival instincts were screaming at him to get through this by any means necessary and he didn’t know how to turn them off.

Jack was still holding him tightly, moving his thumb in small circles at Davey’ waist in a way that felt so strangely out of place in the middle of a disaster. It was a reminder of why he was fighting so hard. He wanted a lifetime of that one movement, keeping him sane though everything.

People were starting to fall, unable to keep their grips as the ship kept tilting. Screams started loud and faded as people dropped, bodies hitting the rigging and railings as they slid down the deck, not to stop themselves making the fast decent into the water. Some people decided to opt for climbing over the railings to hang off the back of the ship, but the two men who tried it close by couldn’t cling on that side either and their fall was punctuated by yells that disappeared into the night. – the last thing they’d ever say.  Davey just wanted it all to stop, closing his eyes and trying to pretend he could wake up from this nightmare.

The ship suddenly lurched and Davey felt his grip on the bars loosen, dropping just an inch or two. He struggled with a gasp, remembering the last time he almost lost his hold on these exact railings. This time he had no desire to die. Jack, just as before, pulled him back up and put his arms under Davey’s to hold him more securely.

“Hang on real tight,” Jack said, gulping. The idea of losing Davey like that didn’t bear thinking about.

Sensing that he needed something to keep him sane, Jack put a hand over Davey’s on the railings, trying to make this hell less hellish. Just as Davey was about to manage a smile of gratitude, the lights on the ship blinked out again. This time they didn’t come back on.

It took a moment for Davey’s eyes to adjust to the new darkness lit only by the stars and a slither of moon, and for a little while all he could see was Jack’s face so close to his. Before he’d re-orientated himself, an enormous groan reverberated through the ship, quickly turning into loud snapping sounds as the deck started to crack and splinter part way down the ship. He could see the sparks being thrown up from the depths of _Titanic_ as her cables and wiring were torn in two.  This wasn’t even close to over, he realised, pressing a hurried kiss to Jack’s neck and trying ignore the screams of the people falling down the newly created chasm in the ship.

With a jolt, the stern of the ship plunged back down into the water, Davey’s stomach doing cartwheels from the sudden movement. As one, what was left of the crowd screamed. He tried not to think about the people below in the water getting crushed, or those that were thrown overboard from the force of the movement. Splashing water up high enough to spray across Davey’s face, the stern of _Titanic_ settled back on the ocean. It was a relief to be horizontal again, if only for a moment, but they start to tip back again as quickly as they had dropped. Those who had let go, assuming the worst was over, were the first to fall.

“We have to move,” Jack realised quickly. They needed to be on the other side of the railings. He scrambled over, and reached back. “Give me your hand, I’ll pull you over,” he insisted, grabbing Davey’s hand.

Davey looked back at the ship that was no longer a ship and at all the people who wouldn’t be people for much longer. Then he turned to look into Jack’s eyes, not even bothering to hide the fear in his own.

“I’ve got you, I won’t let go,” Jack promised, not breaking eye contact as he helped haul Davey over.

As soon as Davey was steady, Jack put his arms around him, clinging on to the railings on either side of his shoulders. They weren’t in much danger of falling anymore, with the ship completely vertical. Davey felt like he was staring straight down at his grave.

“What’s happening, Jack?” he asked, his voice wobbling.   
“I don’t know. I _don’t know_ ,” Jack admitted, wishing he did. If he could tell what was going to happen, he could plan this far better. They were still on the ship, so that was something, but there wouldn’t be a ship to be on for much longer.

 _Titanic_ was still, standing proud like a tombstone for all she had killed, and she seemed content to play the waiting game to add a few more corpses to her tally. It almost seemed like they would be trapped in that moment, that purgatory between life and death, forever.

“Jack…” Davey began shakily, wondering if this would be a good time to try at a goodbye again.  
“Hold on,” Jack gritted his teeth. They weren’t going to die if he could help it.

Everyone was so tired. Their grips started failing one after the other, knocking down more and more people as they fell. Each body cracking against the ship’s endless hard surfaces and edges was an unforgettable sound. The woman Davey had been watching held on with one hand, the child still tightly in the other. Until the little baby slipped from her arms and, as if it had been the only reason she’d been trying so hard to survive, she fell moments after, simply letting go. Davey reached out to grab her, but it was too late. It was all too late.

Cries of help were echoing around the ship. Now there were fewer of them it was easier to separate one from the rest and hear the prayer and the begging and the pleading, as if any of it was going to help. Davey’s wet clothes had created goosebumps across his skin in the cold air and he could see his own breath coming in quick, short pants, orchestrated by fear. He looked down at the people already in the water, pitying them but knowing he’d be there himself soon enough.

Eventually, _finally_ , what was left of a floating city started to sink beneath the waves.

“This is it,” Jack nodded to himself and trying to brace for what was coming.

“Oh god, Jack, oh god, oh god, oh god,” Davey repeated, unsure what else to say. His words joined a chorus of groans from the ship and cries from other passengers. An orchestra of the damned.

Jack’s arm tightened around Davey’s waist and he could feel the metal of the handcuffs still locked around Jack’s wrists. Absurdly, all Davey could think about was that he hated the idea that Jack might die whilst still technically in chains for what they’d done. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

They were getting closer and closer to the water Jack said had before would kill them, the surface only meters away.

“The ship is goin’ to suck us down. Take a deep breath when I say,” Jack ordered, trying to keep calm. He took Davey’s hand tightly. “Kick for the surface and _keep kickin’_. Do not let go of my hand.”

Davey nodded. He could do that. Keeping hold of Jack’s hand was all he wanted for forever.

“We’re gonna make it, Davey. Trust me,” Jack added. He had to believe the words were true. He had to think they were going to see daylight again.  
“I trust you,” Davey promised, turning to look at him so honest and so afraid.

Jack kissed the back of Davey’s hand, all he had time to reach, and they both turned to watch the water engulf them. It looked almost like it was boiling, frothy and bubbling around the ship, but Davey could already feel the cold emanating from it.

“Ready? Now!” Jack shouted, and Davey did as he’d said.

He managed to get the breath in just in time to avoid inhaling a mouthful of water and, just like that, the _Titanic_ was gone.

Jack hadn’t been lying about the cold. It was an almost immobilizing pain, like knives and needles and fire. Still, Davey wasn’t going to stop fighting. He felt the ship’s current start to tug them down and kicked up for the surface. He made it a foot upwards only to be dragged two feet back down. Water was roaring in his ears and, disorientated, he felt his hand slip out of Jack’s grip.  Blinded by the water and desperate to find him again, Davey put more force into his kicks until he broke the surface just before his lungs rain out of oxygen.

Everything was screams of loss and panic and pain, filling the night air. It was too dark to see much but Davey could feel the bodies around him, sensing life after life. There was no sign of the once great ship.

“Jack?!” he yelled out, as loud as he could manage with his chest contracting in the cold.

There was no sign of the man he loved, just faceless, nameless condemned thrashing and kicking and panicking. The sea was more bodies than water.


	28. Chapter 28

His lifebelt doing the bulk of the work to keep his afloat, Davey focused on trying to find Jack. He didn’t even know if it was worth keeping up the fight if the prize wasn’t getting to sleep beside Jack at night. Having checked everyone whose face he could see in the darkness, he pushed his way through a wall of people to widen his search, praying Jack hadn’t been dragged down with the suction of the ship. No. He had to still be alive or Davey didn’t want to be anymore. Jack was all he had. His parents would reject him for good now, no doubt, and there was no chance of them letting him see Les or Sarah. He couldn’t step onto American soil alone.

With his breath coming out like a portion of his soul was leaving his body, all wispy and white, with each painful lungful of oxygen he took, Davey was acutely aware that he was surrounded by hundreds of people, all kicking in the water. When someone grabbed hold of him by the shoulder straps of his lifebelt he tried to turn, assuming it was Jack, but was immediately pushed under the water.

He gasped as he went down, water rushing down his throat and threatening to choke him. Kicking up fast, fueled by adrenaline, he managed to get back above the surface for a couple of seconds before the hands moved to his head and pushed him down more firmly. Whoever the man using him as a floatation device was, he was stronger and just as determined not to die. Davey couldn’t fight him.

“No! Jack!” he yelled each time he managed to get his head above the waves, certain no one else would care enough to help him when they were fighting to survive themselves.

“Davey!” came a voice, cutting above all the others, and he was sure it was a hallucination as his brain was starved of oxygen, until he heard it again. “Get off of him!”

He struggled back up just in time to see Jack punch the man squarely in the nose before grabbing Davey’s arm and pulling him away and in for a hug.

Davey had never been happier to see anyone in his life. His hands fluttered across Jack’s cheeks, wanting to touch him to know that he was real but they didn’t really have the time.

“Swim, Dave,” Jack ordered seriously. “I need you to swim. I know you can do it.” There was a small hint of a smile in his eyes as he said the words, harkening back to a life that was on its way to the ocean floor.

He grabbed the strap of Davey’s lifeboat to hold on to as they swam, determined not to lose him again as he forced their way through the crowd. Davey kicked after him, dodging elbows and knees of other passengers and trying to ignore the fact that the water was so cold it felt like his organs were slowly failing.

“Keep swimming,” Jack encouraged, guiding them out of the mass of people where it was easier to move without colliding with someone else.

“It’s so cold,” Davey managed between spitting out mouthful of water that he was taking in with each stroke.  
“Come on, love,” Jack said, not caring who heard the epithet. No one would be alive to repeat it. “Here.”

They’d reached what seemed to Davey like a broken piece of door, floating on the surface so invitingly. The air was warmed than the water and Davey wanted nothing more to be out of it.

“Up, go,” Jack urged, hoisting Davey up onto the board with a hand on his ass.

Davey struggled out of the water, his waterlogged clothes dragging him down and his lifebelt making him bulky and clumsy. His limbs were uncoordinated, slowed by the cold, but eventually he managed to clamber up.  
“Come on,” he ordered, reaching his hand out to Jack to pull him up beside him.

Taking Davey’s hand and swinging one of his legs up onto the door, Jack attempted to climb up beside him. The extra weight had it sinking into the water, tipping it so that Davey had to grab hold of what used to be ornate decorative trimming to avoid sliding off. With a sigh, Jack let himself fall back into the water. If there was only room for one of them, it was going to be Davey.  
“It’ll tip. Stay,” Jack explained, trying to use as few words as possible to conserve energy in whatever way he could.

Davey just rolled his eyes and braced himself for another cold plunge before abandoning the makeshift raft to join Jack in the water. There was no way he was going to stay up there whilst the man he’d happily give up everything for tread water in a freezing ocean.

“Hey, get back up,” Jack complained, reaching out to steady the door again so Davey could do just that.

But Davey just put his hand over Jack’s and squeezed.  
“Where you go, I go,” he explained. They got through this together, or they didn’t get through it at all.  
“Davey…” Jack sighed, trailing off. All he wanted was for Davey to be okay. He didn’t care about himself and he didn’t really care about anyone else who had been on the ship, not in the same way, as long as the incredible man he’d met aboard got the chance to live a life that made him happy. A life that he could look back on and think ‘yes, I spent my time here well’. And if he died tonight then none of that could ever happen.  
“There’s room,” Davey was certain. And if there wasn’t then he was still staying beside Jack.

With a renewed determination to make this work, just so Davey would keep himself safe, Jack looked critically at the door. It was long and rectangular, buoyant but not as much as he would like. They needed to balance. Gesturing for Davey to go around to the other short end of the board, he counted down from three and on his say they both struggled up at once. It was ungraceful and wobbly and the door sat a little lower in the water but they were both up above the surface, sitting gingerly opposite each other.

“Told you so,” Davey pointed out, managing just a little smile.

Jack laughed, the motion painful in his frozen lungs.

“Just keep looking at me. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay,” he repeated, determined to make it so by willing it. They had a chance now. “Hold my hands, here.”

He held out both his hands to Davey, smiling when he took them. They were together and that was what mattered. If he had it his way, he wanted Davey in his arms but they had to distribute the weight. If only touching Davey’s hands for a few hours meant he might be able to hold Davey always, then it was worth the sacrifice.

“I’ll never let go, Jack,” Davey promised, his teeth chattering as he spoke. He traced a finger over the biting cold metal of the cuffs around Jack’s wrists.  
“Ya damn right you won’t. We’re gettin’ out of this alive,” Jack affirmed, squeezing Davey’s hands tightly and looking into those eyes.  “We’ll be alright now.”

It felt like they were separate from the commotion in the water now, but they still couldn’t ignore it. They were surrounded by screams and cries for help, but Jack knew it was pointless to join in. No one was listening. One man started blowing a safety whistle.

“Return the boats,” he shouted between high pitched shriek, like the whistle was in as much pain as the survivors.

Jack was shivering now, each motion coming deep from his bones.   
“The boats are coming back for us, Dave,” he whispered, trying to stay positive. “Hold on just a little bit longer. They had to row away from the suction. But, now they’ll be coming back.”

He had no idea if the words were true. From the looks of the lights on the life boats, each a pinprick, he was most likely telling a lie. But he had to believe it. For him and for Davey.

Nodding absently, Davey thought about all the moments over the past couple of days. Flying at the bow of the ship, wanting to pitch himself off the stern. Every second he’d spent with Jack in the dining room, in his bedroom, in the cargo hold. It was all underwater, plummeting towards the bottom of the ocean and leaving him only with memories as it took hundreds of souls with it. He was alive and Jack was alive and that felt like the universe telling him they were okay, they were _right_ , but all those people who had gone down with the ship were right, too. They were innocent. Every single one of the screams and cries for help that surrounded him was another person, another life that shouldn’t be hanging in the balance.


	29. Chapter 29

Sitting in a lifeboat watching an entire ship get swallowed up by the ocean had to be the worst thing Sarah had ever witnessed. She couldn’t think about anything but what would be happening inside. Furniture turned upside down, cargo and food tossed around, plates falling off tables and shelves. Shattered glass, twisted metal. And the people. God, she couldn’t get them out of her head. There was no way everyone had made it out. The men who had been working in the boilers at the time, what had become of them? Had they all been swept away?

And where was Davey?

The last she’d seen of him, he’d been heading down into the bowels of the ship. What if he’d never made it out? He and Jack could have gotten lost or trapped, could have died long ago. But she had to believe that wasn’t true. Still, where did that leave things? Was he one of those voices in the water? Was he in another boat?

She tried to pick his voice out from the cries of desperation she could hear from where the ship once was. The darkness was blinding and she couldn’t make out bodies, but she knew they were out there. The cacophony of torment proved it so. It was chilling and she wanted it to end, but she knew that when it did it would be because hypothermia had claimed hundreds of lives. And, more likely than not, her little brother would be among them.

Davey was a good kid. Despite all the bad things Esther had to say about him, he was the best brother she could have asked for. She’d always known he was going to turn out different, somehow, not that she’d ever have guessed from a young age that he’d end up liking to lie with men. But he’d always had his head in a book. It had taught him his quick wit and fiery backtalk that he silenced more often than not in front of their parents but let loose when he wasn’t in the presence of adults. And he was sweet and patient and kind. He deserved to be happy.

When she’d started to realise he’d never end up with a woman, she’d been conflicted. All her life she’s been taught _man and wife, man and wife, man and wife_ , but if that wasn’t what Davey wanted then why should it be forced on him. She’d teased it out of him one day, that he found men attractive. He’d been watching the gardener out of the window, his muscles flexing as he trimmed the hedging, and she couldn’t deny the look of intrigue and longing in his eyes. He was only 15 then and he’d denied he was even looking until, two days later, he’d snuck into her room when the entire household was asleep, sat down on the edge of her bed and whispered _‘I was looking’_ so quietly she was barely sure he’d said it.

It was easy to be supportive when she saw how much it was hurting him. The last thing she wanted was for one of her little brothers to be in pain, so she’d been the voice of reason. She’d been the one to hold him when he cried over being unable to make the feelings stop. Every time it would get mentioned by their parents or their rabbi, she’d watch for the subtle signs that Davey had heard. His hands would close into fists, digging his nails into his palms, and he’d gnaw at his bottom lip like it was between that and letting tears fall. Throughout it all she’d told him that he wasn’t damned and he wasn’t bad, he was just different - and there was nothing wrong with that. He’d been starting to believe it, too.

She’d given him a book of poetry for his eighteenth birthday. He’d taken the green binding, tracing the shallow embossing on the cover with intrigue. Whilst it was perfectly normal for Sarah to gift him a book, the manner with which she’d handed it over, covertly and with a teasing wink, had him on guard. Opening it to a random page to work out what it was, Davey had skimmed a few lines, trying to work out what he was holding. As soon as it dawned on him that _Leaves of Grass_ was not, in fact, a book about plant life, he’d turned instantly scarlet, snapping it shut and hugging it tightly to his chest. Sarah had just laughed and waved away his stuttered thank you. He’d kept the book under his mattress, as far as she was aware, terrified their parents would find it and take it away.

When he’d confessed to her that he’d been talking to Albert DaSilva and there had been some touches between them, some brushing of fingertips and exchanging of coy smiles, she’d been happy for him. He’d explained that he wasn’t necessarily _interested_ in Albert, but he wanted to try something just to see what is was like, she’d supported him. And then after he’d been caught, she’d consoled him.

Before they’d left for _Titanic_ , he’d handed her back the book of poetry with shaking hands. He couldn’t take it with him, but he hadn’t wanted to leave it behind in his room in case Esther found it and destroyed it. Sarah had taken in carefully and hidden it in her own room, promising to give it back to him one day. Only now she might never get the chance.

She tried to boil down all those memories and apply them to one voice from the hundreds she could hear, but she just couldn’t do it. Davey wasn’t a tally, wasn’t just another shout in the darkness.

Sat in one of two lifeboats secured together so they wouldn’t drift apart, Sarah looked around at the people around her and scowled. Even in the dim light from the waning lamps, she could see everyone was ignoring what was happening only a few hundred yards away. Esther was looking down, mumbling prayers and trying to tune everything else out, and most of the other women aboard were following suit. Only Medda was looking out towards the voices, pain in her eyes.

“We have to go back!” Sarah shouted, her voice cutting through the funeral silence.

One of the stewards who had been assigned to row their boat scrambled to his feet.  
“Are you crazy, Miss? They’ll swamp the boats and we’ll all drown,” he protested, gaining a few mumbles of agreement from the other women in the boat, including Esther.

Feeling sick at the way humans could treat each other, Sarah climbed up shakily to face her fellow survivors. She surveyed each of them one by one, taking in the looks of fear and fatigue. It was a horrific night, she understood that, and they’d managed to escape the majority of the danger. It wasn’t difficult to see why voluntarily heading back into the storm was an unpopular suggestion. But those were people out there screaming, and at least half the women in the lifeboat had to know their husbands might be among them.  
“How can you sit here and listen to them die,” Sarah accused bitterly, ignoring her mother’s hissed requested for her to sit back down.

“Better them than me,” the steward shrugged, and Sarah was suddenly seething.

This man had done nothing to deserve a place on a boat. She thought of Davey, who had barely gotten to live yet, and of the man who had made her brother smile so much. Surely they were worth more than the spineless man stood before her. She thought of her father, so often overshadowed by their mother but a decent man when he had the courage to be. They’d talked once, about Davey, and Mayer had admitted to her that he thought Esther’s punishment was too severe. He didn’t deserve to die either.

“No,” Sarah spat. “The only reason you’re here is sheer luck. You’re not special.”

“Sarah!” Esther shrieked, pulling on her skirts to try to get her to retake her seat and button her lip.

“Mama, David could be-” she tried to reason, but was only interrupted.

“If David was with that… boy of his then they were probably so many decks down that he’s likely at the bottom of the ocean by now,” she said coldly, whispering as she always did when the matter of Davey’s sexuality had to be spoken aloud.

“You don’t know that,” Sarah tried to reason. “He could be one of those voices.” _We could be listening to him die._

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Esther sighed, looking out towards where the _Titanic_ once was.

Sarah just gawped, horrified. She turned to her mother with gritted teeth and scowled. This was the final straw. She’d put up with horrible things Esther had said about Davey for too long, making excuses to herself about ingrained upbringing, always saying that eventually Davey would be able to get away from it all. But now he might not have an eventually.

“My brother, _your son_ , is the best man I’ve ever known, regardless of where he spends his nights. And yet you’d let him die.” She could barely get the words out, hating how foul they tasted.

There was silence on the lifeboat for a long moment as those who were unsure what was going on realised what exactly Sarah and Esther were talking about. Amidst some uncomfortable muttering, Medda rose to her feet to stand beside Sarah.

“Miss Jacobs is right. More than half the seats on these lifeboats are empty and there are folks we could be saving. Everyone over here into this boat. We’re going back,” she declared, leaving no room for discussion.

Murmurs started to spread around the other women – maybe they should be returning for their men in the water? No one talked about how it had been so long that the cries for help were beginning to fade away.

“Shut up,” the steward growled, clearing concerned his privileged position on a lifeboat was about to be swept from under him.

“No you shut up, or your luck isn’t going to continue,” Sarah shot back with a glare.

Mumbling angrily to himself, the man sat down. He could clearly see that he was going to get overruled.

Under Medda and Sarah’s instructions, they started to move everyone from one lifeboat into the spare seats in the other so they could send one back to where the ship had gone down. The cries got fainter and fainter if they did, but they persevered. If they could save even one life, Sarah reasoned, it would all be worth it. At last, the boats were untied and two stewards set off in an almost empty lifeboat, laden with extra coats and blankets, back towards what was left of the _Titanic_.

“They’ll bring him back, if he’s out there,” Medda said, putting her arm around Sarah and pulling her in for a hug.  
“He is. I know he is,” Sarah decided firmly. She was sure of it.


	30. Chapter 30

Davey had never been in pain like this before. Even out of the water it still felt like pins were being driven deep into every bone. He had just about enough energy to hang on to Jack’s hands, but his body was going numb and he was slowly losing all feeling in his fingers. Soon he wouldn’t be able to feel Jack at all.

Lacking the energy to move, Davey felt his clothes slowly freeze against his skin, getting tight and stiff. Icicles were forming in Jack’s hair and Davey assumed the same was happening to him, turning it white and heavy. Jack looked so cold. Every quick, painful breath was coming out visible and his cheeks had lost all colour. If he wasn’t doing his best to keep his eyes open and a smile on his face, Davey would have thought he was already dead.

Davey felt like he was drifting in an out of consciousness, unable to focus on one solid concept. Clouds were rolling though his mind, fogging everything up. He wanted to crawl closer to Jack and burrow into his arms, for warmth and safety, and he forgot why that was a bad idea until he tried to move and the board rocked underneath them. Right. Balance. He had to stay where he was.

“It’s getting quiet,” he whispered, needing to say something out loud so he had something to focus on.

The sea wasn’t screaming anymore. Whether people had just given up hope on getting rescued and had ceased shouting to save energy, or whether they had joined the tally of the dead, Davey wasn’t sure. One or two cries persisted, but they were fading fast.

“It’s just gonna to take a couple’a minutes to get the boats organised,” Jack reasoned, his lungs hurting with each word.

They both knew it was a lie. It had been longer than a couple of minutes already and the lifeboats showed no sign of coming back. Jack managed a small smile nonetheless, squeezing Davey’s hands with the last bit of life left in his fingers and ignoring the mind-numbing pain of the frozen handcuffs around his wrists as they sent chilblains up his arms. He’d lost hope that they were going to get to live, not that he’d admit it to Davey, but at least they got to die together. It was something that had been worth their fighting. He didn’t want Davey losing his life, but if they both had to go then he’d rather they went out like this than both alone. Davey’s eyes were going to be the last thing he saw, and for that he was grateful.

“I don’t know about you, but I intend to write a very strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this,” he mumbled, just to make Davey smile. God, he was going to miss that smile.

It hurt to laugh, but Davey managed one huff. He wanted to kiss Jack. He wanted to be back in his room on the ship, both of them tucked up in his bed, tracing gentle patterns over Jack’s skin and following the invisible lines with his lips. It seemed words away.

“I love you, Jack,” he said. There wasn’t enough time left to say it. He could repeat the words thousands of times and it would never be enough.

Jack just shook his head minutely - all he could manage.

“Don’t you do that,” he ordered, through gritted teeth to bear the pain. “Don’t you say your goodbyes. Not yet, do you understand me?”

He didn’t want Davey focusing on the fact they probably weren’t going to see morning, so he tried to focus on a future that would likely never come.

“I’m so cold,” Davey explained. He couldn’t remember what being warm felt like and he was certain he’d never feel it again. This was the end.  
“Listen,” Jack protested. He needed him to play along. “Davey, we’re gonna get out of here. We’re gonna live a long and happy life. Together. With kids and grandkids and so, so much love. We’re gonna find some damn oil,” he teased, winning him another short laugh. “You’re never gonna feel alone again, I promise. You’re gonna to die an old man, warm in his bed. Not here. Not this night. Not like this. Do you understand me?”

Davey tried to listen to the words Jack was saying but they floated around him, impossible to grasp. He knew his brain was starting to shut down, too cold to process thoughts coherently.

“I can’t feel my body,” he said quietly, dissociating from everything. It felt like he was drifting away and the only thing keeping him tethered were Jack’s hands.

Jack blinked, worried that he was losing him. He had to keep him conscious for as long as possible, keep him talking and keep him focused.

“Winnin’ that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. Despite all this. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful for that, Dave. Thankful,” he insisted, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. They’d be frozen by the time they reached his chin.

Davey managed one nod, Jack’s words drawing him back to corporeality a little.

“You know,” he began, his lips cracking as he spoke, “in my mother's grand life plan for me I marry her friend's daughter, Hannah, and I have three sons. I don't think dying age eighteen, holding onto the man I'm in love with is going to please her very much.”

He smiled, meeting Jack’s eyes. Even if it all ended tonight, this was better than that life Esther had planned. Tennyson was right - _better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all_.

“I kind of hate your mother,” Jack laughed.  
“I kind of hate my mother too, don’t worry,” Davey added. If he never saw Esther again, it would be too soon. She was the reason Jack’s wrists were fast going blue around his handcuffs and Davey could scrape together just enough presence to know that was a very bad sign. “You’d like Sarah though,” he sighed thoughtfully, wondering what had happened to his sister. “And my brother, Les. God, Les would love you.”

Jack was exactly the kind of person that Les would adore. He’d probably beg Jack to draw him and run circles around him whilst he did, encouraging him to join whatever game he was playing. And Jack would. Davey regretted that they’d never get to meet. If there was one way to make Les okay with his big brother liking men, it would be introducing Jack.

Jack just smiled, loving to hear Davey talk about his siblings. It seemed like they were far more supportive than his parents. He wanted to encourage Davey to keep pretending there was a future. A future where he got to meet Davey’s siblings properly, a future where they could be together.

“Hannah’s going to be real disappointed that you’re mine now, huh?” he asked, fighting a violent shiver as he attempted to be funny.  
“I’m sure she’ll get over it,” Davey smiled. He’d never have made a good husband.

“Unless you change your mind?” Jack suggested.

Davey laughed. This whole thing seemed absurd – why were they talking about a future they’d never get to have.

“I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go,” he promised. They were going down together, holding hands right to the very end.

Jack summoned all the strength he had left to tug Davey’s hands to his lips. His body was starting to shake beyond control but he just about managed to press a frozen kiss to the back of each of Davey’s hands.

“I love you,” Davey said again. He knew his heart rate was slowing down. This might be the last opportunity he got to say the words.  
“Hey, come on, I thought I-” Jack tried to protest with forced laugher, but Davey cut him off.

“Please say it. I need to hear it. In case it’s the last time.”  
There was so much pain in Davey’s eyes when Jack met them. He sighed and gave in to the request. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to acquiesce.  
“I love you, Davey. So much. I would go through this again and again and again if I got to get you out of it. I love you,” he whispered, wishing he could lean forward and kiss Davey without toppling them both into the water.

Davey tried to squeeze Jack’s hands but his fingers had stopped listening long ago. His body was too cold even to shiver now, and he floated in and out of consciousness.

The air around them was finally still, every cry silenced, and time was meaningless. The stars shone above them, like they weren’t looking down on the incidental slaughter of hundreds of people, burning bright from so far away. They were going to endure all this and more and still be up there, Davey knew, and he hoped that was where he’d go once his body finally gave up. To the stars.

***

When Davey heard a voice, he thought it was a mirage. A hallucination. Maybe an angel. Was he already dead? He blinked his eyes open, scattering icicles that fell from his eyelashes, startled to find a bright light only a couple of dozen yards away. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and once they did, he was certain they were lying to him.

It was a boat. A lifeboat, only with two or three men in it, using torches to search through the bodies floating in the water. He could see them all now, the people who weren’t people any more, only bodies. Later, he would weep for them. Now, he was going to fight to from becoming one of them.

“Is there anyone alive out there? Can anyone hear me?” the officer in the boat yelled, but they were heading the wrong way. They’d passed in front of the makeshift raft and were making their way further into the maze of the damned.

“Come back,” Davey tried to shout, but his voice wouldn’t carry further than the end of the board. His throat was frozen and his lungs almost collapsed so he turned to Jack, hoping he’d be in a fitter state to call attention to them.

Jack’s eyes were closed and his head bowed, his fingers still intertwined with Davey’s. He looked almost dead, his breathing so shallow it didn’t seem like his chest were moving at all. Davey shook his hand, getting no response, and had to detach his fingers, the movements painful and stunted as they tugged at frozen flesh, in order to reach out and shake Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack. Come on,” he begged, his voice still painful and hoarse.

“Dave-” Jack mumbled, his eyes slowly opening as he raised his head.

“They came back,” Davey grinned. “They came back.”

It took Jack a moment to process what Davey had said and attach it to the shouting he could hear from behind him, but as soon as he did he stiffly turned his neck and saw something he never thought he would. They might actually make it out of this.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to shout loud enough to get heard, Jack looked around for something, _anything_ , that he could use to make some noise. He thought back to the man who’d been trying to get the attention of the boats before. The man with the whistle. Jack could just about make out the glint of metal from the whistle still in his mouth in the low light.  
“Wait here,” he said to Davey, forcing his limbs to obey him as he shuffled towards the edge of the door. He tried to let go of Davey’s other hand but Davey clung on.

“You t-told me – n-n-not - to let – go,” Davey protested, his teeth chattering, frightened Jack would disappear below the surface into the infinite blackness below.

“Just for - a minute,” Jack explained gently, teasing his fingers from Davey’s. Once they were in a lifeboat, he’d never let go again. “I gotta get - attention. I’ll be right – b-back,” he promised, each word a trial to say.

Struggling into the water and gasping when he was engulfed by its icy embrace once more, Jack fought his was over to the chair that the man with the whistle had been clinging to, his body howling in pain. He grabbed onto it himself and yanked the cold metal from the man’s lips, his respect for the dead replaced with a desire to live, and forced air into his lungs as he raised the whistle to his mouth.

At first, his attempts were pitiful. Barely any sound came out, let alone enough that would carry over to the retreating lifeboat. But Jack was determined to see Davey and himself safe, and he pushed through the pain in his throat until he got a decent breath of air into the whistle and it rang out loud and hopeful in the dark.

The men on the lifeboat clearly heard. They turned their torches back, scanning over body after body in search of the sound. Jack blew into the whistle again and again, giving them a noise to follow. At long last, a beam of light fell across Jack’s face. The brightness had him closing his eyes, pupils shrinking in protest, but he just kept blowing the whistle.

“Come about!” a voice from the lifeboat shouted, sounding relieved to have found someone alive.

Jack kicked back through the water to the door, taking the whistle with him just in case, and grabbed Davey’s hand. He didn’t dare risk climbing back up, not wanting to knock Davey back into the water, but he needed to hold Davey’s hand and grin at him, because they were getting out of this alive. They were going to have everything Jack had promised.

“I love you, Jack,” Davey whispered, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last time.


	31. Chapter 31

Lifeboat 14 picked up four people from the water that night. The first man had been pulled into the boat before it had found Jack and Davey; he wouldn’t see morning. After half scrambling, half been hauled into the boat, the first thing Jack did was make sure his sleeves covered his handcuffs. His wrists were burning with white hot agony but he couldn’t let the officers see the cuffs – they didn’t need a reason to throw him back overboard. Then he turned back to Davey, watching as he curled into a foetal position, trying to make himself as small as possible, on the floor of the boat. He didn’t have the energy to pull himself up onto a seat.

Jack knew he shouldn’t, knew it was a risk, but he shuffled until he was beside Davey and pulled him into his arms with the last bit of strength that remained from the adrenaline of seeing the lifeboat. It felt so good to finally be holding him again.

If he’d been alive, Davey wouldn’t have cuddled so close, not in front of other people. But he didn’t feel alive. Everything was so cold, even now they were away from the water, and this wasn’t what life felt like. He wasn’t dead either, because this wasn’t a fiery hell and it wasn’t a cosy, comfortable heaven. So this was purgatory? An endless wait for an absolution that would never come. And he was happy to spent that wait curled up in Jack’s arms, because he could hear Jack’s heart beating and that was enough.

Jack was too cold to move. He held Davey close and tried not to worry that instead of a warm body, it felt like he was holding a corpse. The officers gave them a look of confusion, but passed over a pile of blankets. No one had the energy to be prejudiced. Jack ended up tucked up to his neck in wool, with a fur coat draped over the top of his head to keep the heat in. Davey refused to move his head from Jack’s chest and Jack wasn’t letting go of him for love nor money, so they just draped blankets over him until he was cocooned in fabric and could slowly start to feel the first tremours of warmth tingling in his fingertips.

They didn’t talk, too focused on trying to stay warm enough to keep breathing. There was nothing dry for them to wear so they were still in the sodden, frozen clothes they’d put on the day before, when life had seemed normal, and Davey was starting to shiver violently under the blankets. But Jack knew shivering was good – it meant Davey’s core body temperature was raising a little. He was starting to shiver a little himself, too, his teeth beginning to chatter.

The lifeboat continued on through the endless corpses that filled the ocean and Jack couldn’t bear to look over the side. He’d made friends aboard, down in Steerage, and he didn’t want to see any of them out there. The officer in charge continued to shout out, but his calls of ‘is there anyone alive out there’ were met with silence.

Only one other man was pulled from the water. He’d been balancing on a piece of wreckage from a staircase and he was in much the same state as Jack and Davey, his face gaunt and pale, his eyes uncomfortably prominent and ringed in red. He didn’t even know Davey was there for a while, until after about an hour when Davey wriggled up until he could rest his head on Jack’s shoulder and press a kiss to his neck, not quite having gained enough mental functions back to remember why he wasn’t allowed to kiss Jack in public. Jack returned the kiss with one of his own to Davey’s icicle-patterned hair. The man stared, stunned to see two men being so casually affectionate, but Jack met his eyes and challenged him to say anything. They’d been through enough that they deserved this and the man seemed to be able to tell. He looked away, not comfortable with it but not about to speak out either. Jack could respect that.

It had been a long day for them all. Davey hadn’t slept in 21 hours and in that time he’d renounced his family, slept with the love of his life twice, and more or less lived through the most terrifying experience he could imagine. His entire body was in pain from the enduring cold in his veins, his ribs still ached from his collision with the side of the lifeboat as he’d fallen, and he just wanted to rest. Jack did his best to tuck the blankets close around Davey and whispered nonsensical, comforting things to him as he drifted off to sleep against his shoulder to the sound of _we’re gonna get our happily ever after, baby, I promise_ and _this is all gonna be over soon and you’ll be warm again_ and _I love you more than life itself._ He wasn’t sure that Davey could really hear him, but he was going to repeat it every day from now on so there was time.

Jack was doing his best to ignore the pain in his wrists from where the handcuffs pinched. The metal had contracted in the cold and, whilst it was expanding a little and pulling at his skin as he started to warm up a little, the cuffs were leaving rings of fire. He just wanted them off but it clearly wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The keys were likely lost to the ocean.

It was an eternity into infinity when they saw the lights on the horizon. Jack was certain it wasn’t real. The officers on the lifeboats had been waving green flares, their glow colouring everything, and he figured maybe that had affected his eyes. But the lights only got stronger and it became clear it was a ship. Jack didn’t pass the news on to Davey, not wanting to wake him when he finally looked so peaceful. He was breathing evenly and was as warm as it was possible to make him given the circumstances, so Jack figured it was alright even if he knew sleeping whilst hypothermic was unwise.

Jack just watched as the ship got closer and closer, trying to internalise that that was their salvation. That ship was going to pick them up and get them warm and take them to New York. The endless waiting could finally come to an end.

The rescue ship’s lights were burning brightly in the darkness, especially now the torches on most of the lifeboats had died out. Jack knew he wasn’t alone in watching as it drew towards them and eventually stilled a couple of hundred yards away. Then nothing happened. No noise and no movement. The _Carpathia_ had arrived expecting a floundering ship, ready to rescue passengers from aboard. When they had reached the coordinates of the last known position of _Titanic_ and found nothing but ocean, they’d stalled. Until a light from one of the lifeboats shone, a dull green spark from another flare, as it began to make its way towards _Carpathia._ _Titanic_ had become wreckage and memory.

It took a long time for all of the survivors to make their way up to the deck of the _Carpathia_ , gripping rope ladders with frozen fingers. As lifeboat 14 approached the ship, towing a collapsible lifeboat that couldn’t travel under its own steam and rescuing thirteen more passengers from an overturned boat being used as a raft, all of whom had the good sense to ignore the two men cuddled around each other in the corner, Davey slept on.

Moonlight turned to sunrise and, as light began to creep back over the scene, Jack could finally start to make out details of their night. There were a few pieces of rubble, some splintered boards or abandoned chairs floating on the water, but the bodies had drifted or drowned and Jack was darkly glad he didn’t have to see their faces in the daylight. Each body was a hundred connections, family and friends and loved ones who didn’t even know they were dead yet.

The worst was the ice. They were surrounded by icebergs, some several dozen feet high, and Jack couldn’t help but look at them all and wonder which one was guilty. Which innocuous looking piece of frozen water had decimated the souls aboard the _Titanic_ and sunk her to the ocean floor. He didn’t want to think about it, instead focusing his attention on Davey.

Now that he could see things better, he was by no means comforted by the state of his lover, although he was sure he looked much the same himself. Davey was still so pale, with the faint bruise Esther’s slap had left now prominent on his cheek in a way that made Jack’s blood boil. Jack tugged the tartan blanket, as he now saw it was, up a little higher to hide the mark. The movement had him skirting his fingers, just for a second, across Davey’s cheekbone and it was enough to wake him.

It wasn’t quite how Davey had imagined waking up next to Jack for the first time, but it would do. The fact that he knew there was going to be the next morning, and the one after that, and the one after that, made it all alright.

Seeing the blue of Davey’s eyes again made Jack want to cry. Even though they were dazed and reddened and sad, it was a sight Jack had resigned himself to never seeing again. Davey managed a small smile up at Jack before turning to see the _Carpathia_ , now looming above them as they waited for the boat before to finish unloading.

“We’re okay?” he asked, his voice cracked and painful.

Jack grinned and pressed a kiss to Davey’s forehead.

“We’re gonna be,” he promised.

***

Sarah spent her night huddled close to Medda for warmth, both of them sharing Medda’s fur coat. They had turned their backs on Esther and were trying to pretend like she didn’t exist. Sarah could never forgive her for what she’d said about Davey, not this time, and she was resisting the urge to push her mother overboard. She’d never have done it of course, the night didn’t need another tally mark for the dead, but she wished Davey could take her place. Or Mayer. Or even Jack. Someone who deserved it just that little bit more.

It felt horrible to be wishing her mother dead, but it was impossible not to when she knew that it was most likely that her brother and her father had gone down with the ship. She just hoped it had been fast and painless and that, wherever Davey was, he was with Jack now. Somewhere Esther couldn’t touch him.

Still, as lifeboat 12 drew closer to the _Carpathia_ , the final boat left on the water, Sarah couldn’t help but hope Davey and Mayer would greet her at the top of the ladder.


	32. Chapter 32

Neither Jack nor Davey could manage the rope ladder up to the boat deck of the _Carpathia_ , their limbs too weak and muscles too tight to allow more than the most basic movement. Eventually they were winched up in makeshifts hammocks, both too exhausted, physically and mentally, to mourn their loss of dignity. There were tears in Davey’s eyes as he waited for Jack to join him on the deck. Sat with his back to the railings, he surveyed what was left of the Titanic. Piles of lifebelts were stacked up, with stewardesses from the _Carpathia_ bustling round with hot drinks and soup to hand out to the passengers congregating. When one young girl came over and offered him a cup of steaming tea, his tears turned to full on sobs.

“Sorry,” he gasped through shaky breaths. “I don’t know why-”

“It’s okay, Sir!,” the stewardess promised, kneeling beside him. “You’ve been through a lot. Here.”

She wrapped a mug in a handkerchief from her pocket so it wouldn’t burn Davey’s frozen fingers and handed it over.

Davey took it carefully and let the steam flow over his face for a few moments, reveling in what it was like to feel warmth again. His fingers tingled as heat seeped through the cup and when he raised it to his lips to take a sip, a few tears falling into the tea, he swallowed a small mouthful and felt a bloom of warmth down his oesophagus. It was a reminder he was alive and it made fresh tears spring to his eyes.

By the time Davey had half-finished the tea, Jack was scrambling out onto the deck to be at his side. Davey greeted him with a weak smile, shakily handing over the mug. As much as he loved the warming comfort of the tea, he loved Jack more and he wanted to share. Jack reached out gratefully, but he winced as he took the cup and Davey couldn’t tell why. The handkerchief should have protected him from the heat. But Jack didn’t drop the mug as he took his own drink from it and passed it back, so Davey figured it was nothing – just his muscles waking up, maybe.

“Sirs?” It was the stewardess from before, standing patiently. “You were in the water?”

Jack just nodded while Davey closed his eyes and tried not to remember.  
“Could you come with me? They want to have the doctor check you over, and there are some warm clothes for you,” she explained, polite and sympathetic.

Davey tried to stand, managing to get half way to his feet before stumbling and crashing back down, dropping the mug and spilling tea across the deck.

Apologising and trying to gather the mug and mop up the split tea with the handkerchief, Davey only relented his attempts when the stewardess waved him away and Jack pulled him back. He hated that his body wouldn’t obey him and, even though he was almost certain the effects were only temporary, he never wanted to feel so useless.

It took two of the male stewards from the _Carpathia_ to escort Jack and Davey down below decks to the dining room, where the centre of organisations had seemed to have based itself. It was a slow journey and each flight of stairs was agony, and Davey hated being treated like a child incapable of walking alone. When he eventually got to slump into a chair and shake off his attendant, he was grateful.

It was busy below decks, with the number of passengers having doubled in an instant. People were milling about half delirious, many still dazed or desperately searching for loved ones who had been aboard _Titanic_ with them. Davey kept half an eye out for his family, ready to duck and hide if he caught sight of them. He couldn’t face them now; he didn’t have the emotional strength to stand up to his mother.

A steward handed them a stack of dry clothes, all donated by _Carpathia_ passengers. They were ill fitting and baggy, but they were warm and that was what mattered. Davey stripped off his clothes with shaking fingers and no shame, desperate to get the still wet fabric away from his skin. The warm clothes felt like an embrace and he sank happily back into the chair, feeling his blood start to pump through his veins again. Jack, for once, seemed shyer as he turned away from Davey to undress, awkwardly holding his arms in front of him. Davey couldn’t understand why – he’d been so comfortable when it had been the two of them in his bed – but he admired the planes of Jack’s back as he struggled into the new clothes, frowning at how he started to shake as he did up the buttons. Something wasn’t right. Before Davey could ask about it, one of the stewards returned to bundle up their wet clothes and take them away.

“No!” Davey protested. “Please, could I…”

He tugged Jack’s blue shirt, the one he’d been wearing all night, free from the pile and held it close. He didn’t want to see it go.  
“I’ll return them, Sir, I was only going to hang them up to dry,” the steward explained patiently, holding out his hand for Davey to give the shirt back. Davey just shook his head.  
“I know, thank you, I just need to keep this,” he mumbled, blushing a little.

The steward didn’t know that this was the shirt Jack had been wearing when they’d first kissed, or the one he’d rushed to get him out of, fumbling over the buttons all the while. He didn’t know that it was the shirt he’d put on afterwards, the one Jack had freed him of down in the cargo hold. There were so many memories and firsts tied up in the stitching that he had to hold on to it.  
“Of course,” the steward said, clearly thinking he was a little unhinged. After all, it was just a piece of clothing.

“Why’d’ya need that, Dave? You’ve got me,” Jack asked as soon as the man was gone, with a shadow of the cheeky grin he’d had before.   
“I don’t know,” Davey sighed, far more serious than Jack had anticipated. “I just do.”

He ran his thumb over the faded, damp fabric and tried not to think about his possessions that were now at the bottom of the ocean. It was stupid really, they were just things. Things from a life that he didn’t even want anymore. He had the heart in his chest and the blood in his veins, and he had Jack. That should be enough. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t a pang of loss in his stomach.

They couldn’t cuddle together amongst the crowds of people in the dining room. Now the immediate peril was over, they weren’t going to get such a free pass as before, which meant no holding hands, no burrowing into Jack’s arms, and no reassuring kisses. Davey sat in the armchair, surrounded by blankets, and waited to warm up, sharing meaningful glances with Jack in lieu of the physical contact he’d prefer. He had a lifetime of touches to look forward to now, anyway.

***

Jack really didn’t want to leave Davey in order to go and be looked over by the doctor, but the steward escorting him over didn’t give him much of a choice and he would much rather this happen privately than in front of Davey. He didn’t want to worry him.

Someone had set up a makeshift booth in the corner of the room, hanging up a sheet so the passengers wouldn’t feel so exposed. Jack sat awkwardly as the doctor inspected his toes for frostbite, answering monotonically and monosyllabically to any questions. When the man moved on to check over his fingers, he shifted Jack’s hand to get a better look and Jack hissed in pain. The doctor jumped back in shock, watching closely as Jack cradled his wrists to his chest. They were hidden under long sleeves, but they were clearly causing him a level of distress.

“Young man, if I could see your wrists?” he asked gently, sighing when Jack just scowled in response. “Sir, I really think-”

“No,” Jack interrupted. He was still wearing the handcuffs and even if he needed medical attention, he didn’t want to risk some other intolerant busybody finding out what he and Davey had done and putting a fresh pair of cuffs on them both. Esther wasn’t around to save her son from the same treatment now.  
“I won’t repeat what I see to anyone, but I need to take a look,” the doctor insisted, reaching out and carefully pushing down one of Jack’s sleeves.

He was less concerned about the fact his patient had been cuffed at some point and more troubled by what they had done to his skin. They were tight around his wrists and he couldn’t see the skin below but there were rings of blue and shiny, blistered red around either side. It was the worst case of frostbite he’d seen so far.

“Heavens!” the doctor gasped, folding back Jack’s shirt sleeves so he could get a better look. “Are you in pain?”  
“Yeah,” Jack forced through gritted teeth. He’d been trying to be strong for Davey but his wrists were burning.

“These need to come off,” the doctor decided, very matter of fact. He was certain the skin underneath the metal would be even worse and it wasn’t going to get any better until it was no longer clamped.  
“I ain’t got the key,” Jack shrugged. That much should have been obvious. He was hardly punishing himself on purpose; he didn’t need to do penance for what they’d done.  
“Who does?” the doctor asked, already considering scouring the ship for them.

Jack just laughed bitterly, remembering how the Master at Arms had spoken to him and hit him. “With any luck, he’s at the bottom of the ocean.”

Clearly there was a story there that the doctor didn’t know, but he still gave Jack a reprimanding look. Wishing someone dead was rarely excusable.   
“What did you do?” he asked, gesturing to the cuffs. He didn’t really care – nothing would mean this kid deserved the punishment he was facing with his wrists looking the way they did.  
“I’m ain’t gonna tell ya,” Jack snorted. He wasn’t an idiot. “You might just put another pair on me.”  
“Should I?” the doctor raised an eyebrow.

Scowling, Jack hid his wrists again. “No. We didn’t hurt no one,” he growled, protective over what he and Davey had.

“‘We?’” If there was someone else on board with similar injuries to their wrists, then they had to be seen to as well. There was a serious risk of gangrene, it already looked like it had started to set in.  
“He got away without the cuffs,” Jack promised, relieved to be able to say it. Had Davey been in as much pain as he was, he would have hated himself. “His mother blamed me for everythin’. Apparently I ‘seduced him’,” he mumbled, still angry at Esther and just wanting this conversation to be over so he could get back to Davey and hold him.

The doctor appraised Jack for a long moment, before a look of realisation fell across his face.  
“Oh,” he said, surprised. It wasn’t quite what he expected, and it certainly wasn’t anything someone should lose the use of their hands over.

“Watcha gonna do about it, Doc?” Jack challenged, raising an eyebrow. There wasn’t a lot this man could do to make his night worse - as long as he didn’t take Davey away. He was the only thing Jack still cared about.

The doctor sighed. Technically, it was illegal. But he had to admit that this boy had a point – they’d hardly been hurting anyone if it was consensual. So he waved it aside and returned to the problem at hand.

“You need to get these cuffs off. Immediately,” he ordered. Most of the permanent damage had already been done but he was going to be in agony as long as the metal was clamped around his skin.

Jack just barked a laugh. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He was acutely aware of exactly how much pain he was in and he wasn’t a masochist. If he had the choice, the cuffs would have been off a long time ago.  
“Not a lot I can do about that.” He shrugged and looked sadly down at his wrists. They were a macabre sight, corpse-like and blue. Like they were dead, surrounded by skin that still lived.  
“As soon as possible then,” the doctor reasoned. There wasn’t a lot they could do on a ship in the middle of the North Atlantic.  
“I know a guy in New York,” Jack promised.

As soon as he and Davey had set foot in the city, he was planning to head over to a friend of a friend who ran a locksmith’s shop downtown. With any luck they’d be able pick the lock on the cuffs. Or at the very least, force them open.

“That will have to do,” the doctor sighed. When his patient climbed to his feet, clearly anxious to get away, he stopped him. There was something more he hadn’t mentioned. “And, son?”  
“Yeah?” Jack asked. He just wanted to get back to Davey.  
“I’m sorry but… your wrists will never be the same again.”

***

Jack and Davey spent most of the day down in the dining room, getting warm and starting to walk slow, difficult circles around the perimeter in an attempt to get the circulation back to their legs. They stood, a little unsteadily, for the service given by the captain in remembrance of those who they’d lost. Jack didn’t believe in anything and Davey’s crisis of faith was ongoing, so they were somewhat isolated from the Catholic speech, but they could respect the fact that they were the outliers. It was comforting words for everyone else. At the edge of the crowd, where no one was really paying attention to them, Jack reached down for Davey’s hand during the minute of silence. They still didn’t know what had become of the rest of the Jacobs family, and he knew Davey adored his older sister.

Most of the men aboard the _Carpathia_ gave up their cabins to _Titanic_ survious that night. First Class passengers were assigned them first, of course, so Jack and Davey ended up standing in the doorway of the Smoking Room, looking down at the rows of straw mattresses set out for the Third Class men. They’d taken one look at Davey and assumed he was Third Class, and he hadn’t been about to complain - he was more than happy to stay by Jack’s side, and Jack didn’t particularly want to let Davey out of his sight either.

The small, crowded room didn’t hold much appeal. They wouldn’t be able to sleep beside each other, not without raising suspicions, and neither of them could stomach the thought of falling asleep without touching the other. Not now. Not after everything they’d almost lost. So they gathered a small bundle of spare towels and headed back up onto the deck, laying out a small bed under the stars where there were fewer prying eyes to judge them when Jack pressed a kiss to Davey’s lips, savouring the fact they were both warm enough to feel human again.

They’d only been out there for a minute or so when a woman hurried up, explaining that she was a passenger from the _Carpathia_ and would they please take her cabin because she was going to move in with her friend next door, she just couldn’t bear them sleeping outside after what they’d been through. Davey just looked at Jack and shrugged. Clearly she knew what they were to each other, she’d walked up on them resting their foreheads together and grinning between kisses, and yet she was still offering them a place they could be alone together. She seemed pretty sure she wasn’t going to take no for an answer so, thanking her profusely, they followed her to what had been her room and graciously accepted the key before she knocked on the next door over and disappeared inside.

Having a room to themselves was nice and Davey would have loved to have relished in the privacy. Part of him wanted to strip off all of Jack’s clothes and take him apart but they were both exhausted and still too frostbitten to consider undressing, so that fantasy would have to wait. Instead Davey just climbed into bed, groaning at how good the soft sheets felt under his aching muscles, and grinned up at Jack like he couldn’t believe his luck. Jack wanted nothing more than to settle down beside him and hold him and spent a night with him when they weren’t just waiting to die, but there was something he has to do first.

“Can I show ya somethin’?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course.” Davey nodded, stifling a yawn.

Jack looked down at where his wrists were covered by the fabric of his shirt. He’d been hiding them from Davey all day, not wanting to worry him, but he couldn’t continue to keep it to himself. This wasn’t something he could deal with alone. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath as tears flooded into his eyes.

“They hurt, Davey,” he admitted with a choked sob, pushing back his sleeves to reveal the angry dark skin around the cuffs, with violent rings of red fading out down his arms. The effect was startling in the bright lights that lit the cabin and Davey felt sick.

“Oh, god! Jack!” he cried, struggling out from the sheets to wrap his arms around his lover and brush away his tears and he gave in to the urge to let the pain he was feeling out. Jack was sobbing in his arms.

He had no idea what Jack was feeling or how much it hurt, but it didn’t look good. Pushing back the urge to find his mother and throttle her, Davey stroked back Jack’s hair and whispered things that he hoped were encouraging.  

“I’m sure it will only be temporary,” he promised, having no idea.

Jack nodded mutely, but he couldn’t get the words the doctor had said out of his mind. _Your wrists will never be the same again._

***

It was paradise to be able to spend every night holding Davey, and Jack was unacceptably enthusiastic about being able to do it for the rest of his life. His wrists continue to hurt, fluctuating between blinding agony that left him unable to stand, and a dull, throbbing pain that was just about bearable. Most of their time was spent up on the deck that had been designated for Third Class survivors and Davey was heartbroken to see so few. He thought of all those people he’d met at the Third Class dance. So many were now dead. He did catch sight of the French family he’d spoken to the night of the sinking, but now only the woman and child remained. Davey shuffled closed to Jack, knowing he was lucky to have gotten out alive with the man he loved.

They were both draped in blankets but now it was less for warmth and more so they could hold hands beneath the fabric where no one could see. Or as close to hand holding as they could manage when Jack was starting to lose the feeling in his fingers.

Stewardesses were bringing round tea and coffee and young children were playing with dolls they’d been fortunate enough to manage to rescue from the _Titanic_ , or that they had been donated on board _Carpathia_. It was surprisingly calm, considering all they had been through. But the lifebelts were still stacked up as a reminder.

Davey was mourning the fact it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to rest his head on Jack’s shoulder when he heard a familiar voice. Turning, he found Sarah stood only a few meters away talking frantically with an officer, and immediately hid his face, pulling another blanket up to cover his hair and looking away so she wouldn’t catch his face. Jack frowned, not sure why Davey was hiding from one of the only people he spoke fondly of from what his life had been, but turned his head away too in case she recognised him.

“Whoever you’re looking for, ma’am, they’re not down here. This is Steerage only,” the officer assured her. She was still dressed in the clothes she’d been wearing to dinner all that time ago and her hair was a mess, but she was alive and Davey was glad to know it.

With one long look around the deck, trying to take in every face, Sarah sighed and gave in, hurrying back inside. Davey dropped the blanket with an air of relief and Jack shrugged off the one they’d been using to covertly hold holds, ready to have a serious conversation about what that had been about when the ships purser walked over to them with a clipboard.

Jack’s movement had shifted his sleeves and the metal of the handcuffs glinted in the morning sun. Raising his eyes, the purser frowned.

“You want to tell me what those were for, son?” he asked sternly.

Jack hurriedly covered the cuffs again and forced a grin.  
“Wrongly accused,” he said cheerfully.

“Acquitted of all charges,” Davey piped up.

The purser clearly didn’t believe them but it also wasn’t his problem to deal with and he didn’t feel like doing more work that he already had on his plate with cataloguing every _Titanic_ survivor aboard.

“Right… Name?" he requested, somewhat impatiently.

"Jack Kelly.” Jack gave it willingly. He was pretty sure any record of his arrest were now at the bottom of the ocean, if anyone had even thought to note it down, so he figured he was safe to claim his own identity.

"And you?" The purser turned to Davey.

"David,” he answered, but he knew that wasn’t enough. They needed a surname and he couldn’t give his own. Only one other came to mind. “Kelly,” he finished quietly.

Jack turned to him with disbelief in his eyes but fought hard to hide it before the purser caught on. They sat through questions about how much money they had (nothing, everything had gone down with the ship), relatives (no one close, Jack explained), and what their plans were for the future (something vague about getting in touch with a friend who didn’t really exist) until the purser was satisfied and moved on.

"What are ya doin’?!" Jack hissed.

Davey just shrugged. It hadn’t been his best idea but no other realistic sounding surname had come to mind and he’d had to say something.

"I don’t want my family to find me. I don't want them to have my name,” he explained quietly.

"And the best you could think of is that we're related? Nice one, Dave,” Jack groaned.

Davey was actually rather fond of the idea of sharing Jack’s name, even if it was for a reason that they would never be able to have.

"You could be my husband,” he whispered with a small smile.

Jack couldn’t help a quick grin at the thought, but it wasn’t that easy.

"America ain’t ready for that,” he sighed.

Rearranging the disregarded blankets so they could hold hands once again, Davey carefully intertwined his fingers with Jack’s.

"I can wait," he promised.

“It’s illegal,” Jack groaned. He wanted in on the fantasy, but that wasn’t how things worked. They had to be practical, and telling people they were married wasn’t going to keep them safe in America. But the whole world wasn’t all the same. “We could… France, maybe? It ain’t illegal there,” he admitted. It sounded nice, being in a place where they could live together and kiss and sleep together and know that none of it was going to be a cause for them to be thrown in jail.   
“It isn’t?” Davey asked, interested. He managed a small smile. If there were some places where it was legal then that meant there was a chance it would be legal everywhere one day. He filed the thought away for a future chance to imagine a marriage and adopted kids and his family being okay with him.  
“Nah. I ain’t sayin’ that they’d throw us a parade or nothin’, but we wouldn’t be riskin’ prison,” Jack shrugged. Davey’s smile was infectious and he found himself mirroring it. It was a nice dream.  
“Jack, after I get on dry land I am never setting foot on a boat again for as long as I live,” Davey said seriously, grabbing Jack’s hand a little tighter. He was managing to keep his insides calm on the _Carpathia_ because he knew it was taking him back to terra firma, and because the alternative was endlessly floating out at sea. He wasn’t even sure he ever wanted to go swimming again.  
“Okay, fair,” Jack nodded, rubbing his thumb in tiny circles across the back of Davey’s hand. He wished he could hold him instead. “What about Sarah?”

Davey flinched. He hated the idea of never seeing his sister, or his little brother, again, and he was terrified to leave her alone with their mother. But she was strong, and didn’t do anything that Esther could get her arrested over. She’d understand.  
“She’s alive,” Davey said decisively, because that was what mattered.

“She’s gonna miss ya, Dave,” Jack sighed. He wanted Davey to be sure he knew what he was doing when it came to abandoning his family, not wanting him to do anything he regretted.  
“I know… It’s better this way,” Davey mumbled, resting his forehead against Jack’s shoulder for a quick moment. “I’ll write to her. Maybe. One day.” He had to be sure his mother wouldn’t know he was alive. It would put both of them in danger when he never wanted anything dangerous to happen in his life again. He wanted domestic bliss, just a handcuff-less normal life with no one to judge him. “So, Santa Fe, huh?” he asked, bumping their shoulders together with a grin.

Jack smiled back and linked their pinky fingers under the blanket. He couldn’t wait until they had a place of their own where he could take Davey apart with no interruptions. Where they could sleep side by side and hold hands in the daytime and not obsessively lock their doors before they did. Finally, somewhere free.

“Santa Fe,” he agreed.

A ripple of noise came over the deck and Jack and Davey looked up just in time to see the Statue of Liberty crest over the side of the railings as they steamed past into New York’s piers. Against all ­­­odds­­, they’d made it.


	33. Epilogue

Davey was only half paying attention to the news. It was on in the background whilst he listened to his daughter catch him up on how his grandkids were doing now they’d scattered to the wind across the country. Then he heard the word _Titanic_ , said with enough grandeur that he knew it was the ship. Looking up instinctively, he saw a drawing he thought was lost forever to the ocean being held up to a camera. Suddenly Katie’s words became distant ringing and the spiel of the reporter talking about recovering artifacts from the _Titanic_ was roaring in his ears.

“Jack,” was all he managed to say, the name wavering and stunted.

“Yeah?” Jack called back, sensing the shock in Davey’s voice and immediately putting down the wooden spoon he’d been stirring their dinner with and poked his head round the doorway into the living room. When he saw what Davey was looking at on the television his legs found themselves moving of their own accord and he walked over to the sofa. “Oh my god,” he breathed in awe, sinking down onto the couch beside Davey.

“I never thought…” Davey trailed off, because of course he’d never thought he’d see the drawing again. He’d thought about it so often, regretting not saving it and imagining it in the dark as it slowly turned to mush and then to nothing, but apparently he’d be wrong about its fate.

“What is it?” Katie asked, concerned. She was looking at the screen and trying to see what they saw, but all she could make out was some fluff piece about a rather suggestive sketch of a young man, clearly drawn by a lover, found in a ship wreck. What did that have to do with her dads?

She knew they weren’t really her dads, of course, not in the way that mattered to most people. The story of how she’d ended up with them, one she loved to hear and tell in equal measure, involved Jack and Davey falling in love at sea and, after landing in New York, travelling to New Mexico to find a smalltime town where they could live in relative peace, considering two men sharing a house was going to get them strange looks and a lot of talk anywhere. They were taking a risk wherever they settled but they’d been lucky. Not that there weren’t whispers, but they were both upstanding members of the town community. Davey was social and thoughtful and the kids all raved about him as their teacher until the parents couldn’t help but love them too. Jack was instantly likable, his people skills and the fact he served them their alcohol wooing people over even when his cocky nature might have otherwise turned them away. They were happy, and everyone in the town could see that they weren’t harming anyone, so they were accepted. They didn’t hold hands and kiss outside of their little house, but they felt safe there. One day a baby had ended up on their steps. No one knew where it had come from, but it was clear someone couldn’t keep it and had thought them fit to raise it. So they had, and that was when Katie became part of their family. It had been her bedtime story almost every night as a child, the one she begged them to tell her over and over. These were her dads, no matter what anyone else wanted to say on the matter.

She thought she’d known everything about them, but the silence her question had created instantly had her changing her mind. They’d been hiding something, all this time. Just as she was about to ask again, Jack shrugged and finally gave her a clue.  
“That’s your father,” he said, quiet and resigned.

Katie immediately shielded her eyes and turned away from the television. She didn’t need to see what were essentially borderline pornographic images of her father, drawn by her other father.  
“Dad!” she whined, sounding far more immature than she should.

“I was young and impressionable and your dad was a bad influence?” Davey tried, unable to keep himself from a smile at his weak excuse.  
“Hardly,” Jack snorted. “You practically begged me to draw that.” He remembered it well, although his memories were more hung up on _having Davey naked in his arms for the first time_ as supposed to drawing a new sketch, but it was all a part of the same experience.   
“Jack!” Davey complained, hitting him gently on the arm.

“Wait,” Katie asked, confused. “You drew it, Dad? But…”  
She trailed off but they all knew what she meant. But Jack’s hands were debilitated. He couldn’t hold a pen to write, much less draw. And he’s been that way ever since she’d been alive, and probably long before that. There were rings of discoloured skin around both of his wrists that she knew had to be something to do with it, but they’d never been explained to her and her father had almost always keep them hidden under sleeves. They looked like handcuffs marks, she knew that. But she also knew better than to bring them up in conversation.

Davey reached out sadly for Jack’s hand. He knew his wrists were a sensitive issue. Sometimes, when he was in too much pain to even hold Davey’s hand, he’d still shed tears over them.

“You father was an amazing artist,” Davey explained.

Because Jack had been. He was tearing up now, looking at the last thing he’d ever managed to draw. He tried time and time again once they’d settled in Santa Fe, but it just brought agony to his wrists to hold a pencil at that angle for that long. Davey would have to pry the pencil from his hands to get him to stop hurting himself and he’d spend the evening sobbing. Art had been his way of understanding the world and now it was gone.

“Do you think they’d give it back?” Davey wondered wistfully out loud, gesturing towards the television.

It was the first and last time Jack had ever drawn him. After Davey had watched Jack torture himself with attempts to draw, he’d saved up for a camera and that had helped a little. It wasn’t the same but Jack had a new way of capturing images. They were poor quality and they couldn’t always afford film, but it was better than nothing. Every time they’d sent away a roll to be developed, they worried. Jack was particularly fond of taking photos of Davey in various stages of undress and Davey wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea, he was just concerned someone was going to realise they were gay and that it wasn’t going to go well. If they put another set on handcuffs on Jack, he’d never forgive himself.

There was something about that one and only drawing, though. Something a photograph wouldn’t have been able to capture. The way it echoed with the last remnants of who he used to be, whilst still clearly being the boldest thing he’d done in his life – at least at the time. He recognised the look in his eyes in the sketch. He saw it every morning when he opened his eyes and found the man he’d call his husband in spite of what any law tried to say looking back at him. It was love. But no new photograph could encapsulate that feeling in quite the same way. That was intoxicating, forbidden love that burned quick and bright like a match, he could see it in the way his hands were curled in the sheets like he wanted to get them back on skin and the way his eyes were hooded with a kind of innocent lust that still made him blush. Not that he loved Jack any less now, but it was definitely different. They were still romantic, but things were more like a bonfire than a spark. Stronger. Hazy and comforting, like home and safe and forever – but not without its bursts and crackles. Davey wouldn’t give up what he had now for anything, but he wanted that glimpse into the past back, not least because it was a private moment that only Jack should be allowed into and now the only existing remnant of the night he had slept with a man – with _anyone_ – for the first time was on national television for everyone to see.

Jack cocked his head, looking at the drawing on the screen. It managed to feel like a distant echo and a fresh memory at the same time and he couldn’t help but agree that he wanted it back. The last thing he had ever drawn. Still, there was almost no chance.

“Probably not,” he sighed, putting his hand on Davey’s knee and squeezing. “There’s no way to prove it was me who drew it.” Even if the diving crew managed to find out whose cabin the sketch had been found in, David Jacobs was legally dead. There was always Jack’s signature in the corner, but it had changed so much over the years that he barely recognised the untidy old scrawl himself. He did wonder what people would say if and when they realised that there was a male name on the bottom of a sketch of a clearly naked, recently defiled man. There was definite headline potential there.

“No… I suppose not,” Davey agreed, a tone of mourning to his voice.

Katie had been watching the exchange with an endless fascination. It brought up so many questions and, whilst some she never wanted answers to, a lot of them were trying to coerce her tongue into interrupting what was clearly an important moment for her dads. When Jack looked up and met her eyes, he winced. They’d been hiding a lot from her and this finally seemed like the moment to share it all, before they ran out of time.

“Katie, come here. Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite the sofa. This was going to be a long story, and a sad one. It seemed sufficiently serious to necessitate the Proper Conversations of her teenage years about boyfriends and curfews and being safe.

Rolling her eyes, Katie sat down. “I’m not a child anymore, Dad.”

“No, you’re right. You’re not. But we have a story that you should hear. We never quite told you the truth about how we met but…” Jack looked to Davey to get a nod and, taking his hand, he continued. “That ship we met on? It was the _Titanic_. And we made it out alive. It’s time we told you everything, right from the beginning.”


End file.
